Savagery
by Meruda
Summary: A story pondering why the troll druids weren't found before and what people will do to protect themselves. Take the M rating seriously on this one. Assume the worst.  Reviews welcome, though this was primarily me playing with some dark emotions.
1. Chapter 1

Daryana crept towards the big island. She could see the faint lights of Sen'jin Village far off in the distance over the water. This island had no lights of fires or torches, and so she felt certain it was deserted. She wouldn't have dared to step foot on it if she'd thought different. She wasn't even supposed to be anywhere near Durotar.

_She'd been attending one of the high-rank Druids in the Moonglade when the report had come in of a conversation one of the tauren had had with a goblin in Booty Bay. The goblin had mentioned seeing what he called some horned tigers on an island when sailing out from Orgrimmar. The tauren thought he'd just been confusing one of the tauren lions with one of the Durotar tigers and dismissed it, but since all reports of new species were to be sent immediately to the Cenarion Circle, he'd done his duty._

_Daryana could barely keep her face calm and her hands steady while the master druid had ruminated over the report, and then dismissed it. She wanted to be a researcher for the Circle, had volunteered three times already only to be told she was too young. She had read all the books and reports available in the library, and the idea of exploring new worlds, and discovering new forms of life set fires in her brain. _

_Everyone told her to be patient, but every day more and more was discovered. Soon, every inch of the world would have been explored, and there would be no where left to go! Even other planets and continents had come into focus, as explorers had gone to Outland and Northrend. She'd read reports of the giant mushrooms in Zangarmarsh with despair, and of the new rare herbs discovered in Northrend with tears. Every time the maps on the wall in the library grew larger and more detailed, her heart trembled._

_But a horned tiger had never been heard of. She was certain of that. If someone had, she'd have read about it. If she could find just one. If she could find proof of a new species, they'd HAVE to let her join. They'd just have to! And no one else would know about the horned tigers. She'd stolen the report, memorized it, and burned it. She was going to be the first. She could already see the book in a prominent place in the Moonglade library. A blue cover, with tasteful gold script. Possibly with a gloss saying, "by Daryana Whisperwind, night elf Druid and youngest explorer of the Cenarion Circle."_

_She'd taken the boat to Ratchet, and dove off the side before they docked. She didn't want anyone, Horde or Alliance to see her. The swim up to the islands had been exhausting. The first island she hit was so small as to have only a tree or two, and the ability to see all the sand banks at once. She carefully set up camp, digging an extra deep firepit so her fire couldn't be seen from Sen'jin Village. The very last thing she wanted was the trolls finding her. They were a savage race, according to Gloriana Darkswallow's __Races of Azeroth__, barely more than primitives, and quite likely all cannibals. She'd carefully read up on trolls, and orcs so she could be sure of recognizing one when she saw it._

She didn't see any wildlife so far, but the vegetation ahead was thick enough to hide a grizzled brown bear. She set down her pack and staff, and carefully opened her journal to begin writing just like Delarion Moonriver did in all of his books.

"Day 1." She muttered as her pencil scratched. "Have begun exploration with the big island, due to my belief that a more complex ecosystem is required to hide a new species of tiger, heretofore undiscovered." That was good. _My belief_ sounded very professional. So did _heretofore._

Mal'jin was watching her from the moment she stepped onto the island. Violet skin, blue hair darker than his, and those weird glowing blue eyes. If a tiger could swear, he would have. Violently. Zen'tabra just that morning had issued an edict that any strangers found on the island were to be killed. The troll druids weren't ready to expose themselves yet. The voodoo priest Zalazane's enslavement was still too new, still too raw. They had only begun to repair their relationship with the loa, and exposure before they were ready could doom them all.

He knew about night elves. Mal'jin had been one of the few spies Zen'tabra had sent out to see what shape the world was. He'd seen a couple in Booty Bay, and he was certain this one was a young one. If nothing else, because she was being a damn fool by sitting out there in the open on the beach, writing in her book.

He flexed his claws, preparing to spring and kill quickly, but stopped as he immediately felt a deep revulsion. The loa didn't want him to kill her. That thought hit his brain clear as a bell. The loa found it easier to communicate when the trolls were in a simpler form, when their brains were less complex. Messages like "Kill. Don't Kill. Eat. Don't Eat." didn't get tangled up in higher level thinking like they did in the troll-shaped brains.

It translated to feeling like she was in his territory, and he wanted her out. But he didn't want to eat her. Animals don't kill for sport, and the idea of doing so was bad. Scare. He would scare her. He charged out from the bushes, roaring.

She screamed, and ran for the water, dropping everything. His claws shredded the hem of her leather skirt, though carefully missing her flesh. His teeth snapped loudly inches behind her. She dove for the water, and started swimming frantically for the smaller island.

She couldn't transform, she was too frightened. They were so BIG! And the teeth! She watched from the water in tears of fright and anger as the tiger proceeded to chew her journal into shreds, maul her pack, and then chew and slobber all over her staff. How could she have wanted to find one of those things! They were horrible, horrible monsters! And it wasn't horns, it was tusks. Definitely tusks.

She slowly swam back to her camp. The adventure didn't seem so much fun anymore. She definitely felt out of her element and the most horrible thought of all, that perhaps the elders had been right, she was simply too young, crept in.

"No." She muttered, staring at the fire, as her anger at being dismissed for her youth returned to stiffen her spine. "I definitely found one. That's the important thing. I found one. And it didn't get me. " The thought of going back there tomorrow made her shiver, but she set her teeth, and went to bed, determined to be back on the island before daybreak.

"Zen'tabra. We gotta problem." Said Mal'jin, as he approached the head druid. She'd been the first to hear the loa, and was the most powerful.

"Speak Mal'jin." Zen'tabra said, with an encouraging motion of her hand.

"A night elf was on the island today. Young one. The loa didn' want me to kill her, so I scared her off."

Zen'tabra frowned. If it had been anyone but Mal'jin, she might have suspected them of disobeying her on purpose. But Mal'jin was almost as in tune with the loa as she was, and he was loyal and obedient. He wouldn't have disobeyed her unless the higher authority had intervened.

"I brought ya her things. I think she be an explorer of some type." He gestured to the pile of broken things at his feet. "Lotsa books. The chewed one be mostly blank. A diary or somethin'."

Zen'tabra sighed. She recognized the symbol on the pack. "She be one of the Moonglade druids. This be bad, Mal'jin. Dey da last people need ta find us. Ya sure she gone?"

Mal'jin was honest. "No. She swam out a ways, and watched me destroy her stuff, but then she headed for the small island southwest. She could still be there."

"She gotta go Mal'jin. Ya do whatever ya can, short of killin' her if the loa don't want her dead. She can't find us." The emphasis in Zen'tabra 's voice made Mal'jin bow his head. "I'll let everyone know they need to be specially careful hidin' until you sure. We'll move the young ones ta the north island."

"Yes, Zen'tabra." He said. "I make sure dat elfy never wanna see us again."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, and then turned back into her tent, scooping up the elf's belongings, while Mal'jin turned his brain to the problem of making the elf go away without killing her.

When he crept back to the beach the next morning, hidden in the shadows, he wasn't surprised to smell her. This time, she hadn't lingered on the beach, but had headed a little ways into the jungle for a nearby bush to hide in. He couldn't see her until his nose led him up to her bush. She couldn't see him either, as he'd approached from the beach side, and she was staring into the jungle. He could tell by the way she kept looking around. At least she'd learned a little caution.

He felt a tiny spark of admiration deep in the troll part of his cat brain. She'd lost all her supplies, but she'd kept coming. The troll brain wasn't happy at the plan he'd come up with. The cat brain was merely confused, which meant the troll brain was more in control than usual. He couldn't hide behind the animal brain, pretend he was unaware that what he was about to do wasn't horrible. But it needed to be. He gritted his teeth. The safety of his family, his friends, was at stake. There were young ones on the island, too young to shift and hide. This elf threatened them all. He had to make her leave.

Mal'jin pounced, claws carefully sheathed, knocking the elf to the ground, flat on her back, with his weight holding her still. She didn't scream this time, mostly because he'd knocked the breath out of her.

Daryana stared up into its gold-green eyes, terror filling those strange blue-glowing eyes. She could feel its hot breath on her face. Gut-wrenching fear paralyzed her.

"_I'm about to die."_ She thought, dizzily. _"I'm gonna get eaten by the Daryana tuskafelis."_ She'd decided that would be her recommended species name last night. She couldn't move her legs at all under the heavy animal.

She felt its muzzle sniffing its way down her body, breaths coming too fast in her lungs. It stopped at her tunic, and proceeded to rip it off. She whimpered as she could feel the hot jungle air on her breasts and stomach. She tried to crawl away, and the tiger pounced again, flattening her into the ground, this time with a growl. She understood the growl to mean don't move. It bit at her skirt, shredding it away.

"_Maybe, maybe the leather smells interesting to it. It's probably never smelled it before." _ Daryana thought desperately. "_Maybe it hasn't realized I could be food. It's just curious."_ She started to try to carefully remove her remaining clothing, moving slowly so as not to appear threatening. The tiger sat there and watched her intently. She threw her bra, and the tiger leaped to snap it out of mid-air. For a brief second she was impressed by the speed and power of the creature. Then it dropped the bra, and turned its attention back to her.

"_Shit."_ She untied the leather thongs at her hips, and balled up her underwear, throwing it as hard as she could into the bushes. The tiger turned his head to watch it fly away, and then it stalked towards her.

"_Great. I just finished unwrapping the candy bar for it."_ She thought hysterically. She scooted back until her shoulders hit a tree. The tiger stalked towards her, and started sniffing her. She was trying not to cry, but the sobs were sneaking out all the same.

Mal'jin could smell her terror. It was thick in the air, and he could smell the salt of her tears. He hated this. But the thought of the young ones made him go on. She was scared now. He wanted traumatized. Scared hadn't been enough yesterday. He deliberately flopped down on her feet, his front paws on her thighs, and he began licking her naked body.

She kept waiting for the teeth. But she had to open her eyes when that hot raspy tongue went right over her breast and nipple. The sensation shocked and disgusted her. Especially because it felt good.

"No. Stop it tiger." She tried to keep her voice calm, as she started to twist her torso away from it. It growled, and she stopped moving. It went right back to licking her breasts. It seemed to have a particular liking for that area, as it began making a deep rumbling noise that sounded like the moonstalkers purring.

She tried not to think about it. She tried to concentrate on anything else, but the shameful pleasure she was getting from having her breasts licked by an animal. This was forbidden, it was wrong. She shuddered as another lick made her nipple twinge. The saliva was cold on her breasts in the air, and that only made it better.. worse.

She started trying to slide her foot out from under the tiger. If she could stand up, maybe she could get up the tree, where the tiger couldn't get her. The tiger seemed to feel cooperative, as it rolled over to one side, still pinning one leg, licking up her ribs and around her navel.

"Good tiger. Good… boy. " She murmured encouragingly. The bright blue mane seemed rather strange, but she was fairly certain it was a male tiger because of it. Males of any species were always the most brightly colored and manes were a distinctly male trait. She drew her leg up beside her, and immediately realized her mistake, when that hot raspy tongue went right across her now-exposed slit, sending shudders up and down her body.

"Oh Elune… No! Bad tiger."

That hot raspy tongue went back again, and she whimpered. Was it really worth surviving? Would she have to admit that the Daryana tuskafelis had licked her naked body in the book? Would she have to say it felt good? When the snout started shoving hard at her folds, and the tongue went even deeper, she almost bit through her lip, trying not to moan.

The tiger part of Mal'jin's brain was confused. He could clearly smell the female musk, but the species and shape was wrong. Why was he wanting to mate? The troll part was even more confused. The elf seemed to be liking it. He could tell by the taste and smell that his assault had provoked a reaction, and it wasn't the one he wanted. He thought she'd be crying by now, not moaning. And why was he finding the idea of raping the elf more and more enticing?

What was wrong with her? This was disgusting, and yet she'd just tilted her hips to give its tongue better access. The sensations were making her dizzy. She could feel a strange pressure building up that she didn't understand, but that she knew she desperately wanted to release. When the tongue took advantage of the better access to slide over her asshole and and up her slit, the hard muscle grating over her nub nearly made her scream with pleasure. She felt so dirty, and yet so good.

There hadn't been anything in her books about this. The hot shame that filled her mixed with the burning feelings that were tingling under her skin. The Circle would throw her out for this. And yet she found it so hard to care.

_Enough of this. _Thought Mal'jin. He stepped back, and carefully cuffed her on the side of the head with an open paw, sending the elf sprawling away from the tree onto her stomach. When the elf got onto her hands and knees to try and get up, he was standing over top of her, his jaws going lightly around the back of her neck. She froze.

She started making repetitive noises, even as he started nudging her legs apart. She tried to keep them closed, but the jaws tightened ever so slightly, and he growled. She let him push her legs apart. He could feel her shuddering beneath him. Good. That was more like it.

His cock slid out of its sheath. She could feel the wet tip sliding around her buttocks and thighs, as the tiger slowly arranged himself.

"No, no no no no no no …" She kept mumbling, though she knew it wasn't any good. Hot tears of embarrassment and shame started rolling down her cheeks, especially because she could feel the aching down there that seemed to want it. To want this horror.

When he found her opening, a maneuver surprisingly difficult without hands, he started sliding it in. The comparative difference in their sizes meant it was a tight squeeze. He could hear her little cries of pain, and he ignored them, focused now on getting this over with. But first he had to get in there.

It was too big! It hurt, oh Elune it hurt. At least he had to go slow to get it all in, but she could feel the stretching and tearing and dizzying ache that promised pain later. She tried to move away from it, in unthinking reaction, but the jaws around her neck held her in place. She gritted her teeth, trying desperately to relax, to do anything to make it hurt less.

When he had finally managed to get it all the way in, he was aware that she was gasping for breath in a painful way. _ Young ones._ He thought. _It's for the young ones._ And then he started moving.

She'd barely gotten used to its size when it pulled most of it out. And then shoved it back in. She cried out in pain. _Oh Elune. What have I done that you would let me get raped by an animal!" _ She could no longer pretend that she hadn't suffered the ultimate indignity. She was rutting with an animal. It was sticking its cock in and out of her. She was aware of everything. She could feel its hairy sack smacking her on that sensitive nub, and the pleasure warred with the pain of its dick tearing into her. She could still feel her wet and raw nipples standing up straight, and all the places that the tiger had licked tingled in the air. And she could feel that heavy, dizzying pressure building again.

"No.. no, please don't.. don't let me … please don't let me like it." She begged, even as the tiger sped up its pace. The slapping of those heavy balls on her nub was nearly driving her insane, even as the pain of its huge dick was lessening as her body grew accustomed to the abuse. Her legs started shaking as she felt her orgasm coming on. It was so close. She was so close to the edge.

Tigers aren't like humans or trolls. They mate in a few minutes, and Mal'jin's tiger body was reaching the end of its tolerance for the feeling of mating. When he realized he was about to come, he started to pull out. That would be cruel. _This whole thing be cruel. Go ahead. Spill ya seed in her belly. She can walk home with the evidence drippin' down her legs. Maybe then she go faster. _ With an angry snarl, he let go.

Her orgasm hit the second she felt those hot gusts of liquid inside her, and the realization broke her. She'd just lost her virginity to an animal. And she'd liked it. When his jaws released her neck, she fell to the ground, too tired, too shocked to cry.

He could see the blood and semen leaking out of her. He knew he'd hurt her. He turned and disappeared into the bushes, furiously angry with himself, with the loa, with Zen'tabra for making him do such a cruel thing. She could have told Zinta to do it. Zinta wouldn't have minded raping the elf. He still had trouble throwing off the dark loa. He would have enjoyed it. _Maybe that be why Zen'tabra told you to do it. She knew ya wouldn't lose control."_ The reason didn't make it easier.

When the tiger turned and left into the bushes, apparently done with her, Daryana didn't move for a while. Then she slowly pushed herself up, no longer the scared child she'd been. _"You didn't fight because you wanted to survive. Well, if you've changed your mind, then go ahead and lay here and die. But that means you went through that for nothing." _ She felt older as she found her bra and underwear in the bushes. Her clothes were totally ruined. She got as dressed as she could, and turned and headed back towards her camp on the island, determined to scrub off any trace of the encounter in the ocean.


	2. Chapter 2

Zen'tabra was running along the beach in the tiger form, when she found Mal'jin sitting alone on the beach, in his troll form. She sniffed the air, and she could smell blood and mating. She shifted back.

"Mal'jin. Ya ok?"

Silence was her answer. She sat down next to him. "The elf?" She had to ask, though the bleak look on Mal'jin's face surprised her.

"She won't be back."

"What ya done Mal'jin."

"I raped da elfy, Zen'tabra." His voice was cold. "She was crying when I left." He couldn't tell her the worst of it. That he hadn't done so as a humanoid.

Zen'tabra didn't say anything for a few minutes, though she couldn't hide the mometary revulsion on her face. "I can't judge what ya done Mal'jin. I don't understand de loa on this. " The admission came quietly. "Dey the ones told us ta stay hid. Said we needed ta make good before we get found. Yet when others come, dey tell ya not ta act in the merciful way."

"I'm sure de loa got their reasons." Said Mal'jin. But the statement was lacking the confidence it would have had only a day previous. He felt lost, more alone than he ever had before. The loa he thought he'd given himself to shouldn't have wanted such a thing. Had he been wrong? "Ask de loa for me, Zen'tabra. Did I do the right thing?"

"Ya know dey don't answer right or wrong, Mal'jin. We gotta look for the path, listen for when they tell us ta change direction. They told ya not to kill. They didn't tell ya not ta… ta rape. Maybe they don't view sex the same way we do. Animals don't understand rape. Why should the spirits?"

"It wasn't a good thing ta do, even if the spirits didn't tell me not ta." Said Mal'jin. "I ain't never felt so bad. I took everyt'ing away from her. Her food, her clothes, her money." _Her dignity and the smile she was wearing that first day on the beach._ "How she even gonna get home? Maybe I made it so she can't leave and she can't stay."

Zen'tabra blinked, but she put her hand on Mal'jin's shoulder. "Ya still got a good heart Mal'jin. That's what ya need ta find ya right path." She paused, caution curbing her impulses. "If ya wanna return her things, make sure nothin' identifiable. Maybe some clothes from the young ones, and the money to pay her way home. Not the staff or her books. Or da hearthstone."

Mal'jin stared over the waves. "I'd rather not see the elfie again. But maybe dat be my penance. I gotta try ta make it a little better." He stood up, brushing the sand off his pants.

Zen'tabra watched him go, sorrow heavy on her heart. She could feel Mal'jin's pain. She could see the guilt weighing on him. She was sorry that he'd been the one she'd had to ask to do such a thing. But most of the others weren't far enough away from the dark loa to risk temptation. They were still struggling too hard with their own demons and sins to take on new ones. Mal'jin had been doing better than most. To see him forced to take on such a heavy burden was heart-breaking.

Daryana stoked the little fire, while trying to figure out what to do next. She couldn't go back naked. She had no money. She'd never been good at killing animals, though maybe she could trap enough rabbits to make some clothing. Did Durotar have rabbits?

She rubbed at her forehead. She couldn't remember. Her hours of study seemed years away. She'd caught fish in her sea cow form and eaten it. Before, she wouldn't have ever considered eating it raw. She would have carried it back to her fire, and cooked it. The druids had told her she wasn't close enough in touch with her animal nature. If she had been, she wouldn't have thought twice about eating in her form. The thought nearly made her laugh, though the bitterness and bile choked it off. Well, they couldn't say that any more. She'd never read about a druid being in tune enough to fornicate with an animal.

Now, as she stared in the fire, she recognized why she'd been so desperate to be an explorer, to serve in the sense that seemed closest to her books and beloved writing. She wasn't a good druid. She'd had trouble taking on the form of the bear, though the sea cow had come easily. She'd liked swimming. She could identify with the peaceful nature of the sea cow. The violence and strength of the bear had been too hard for her to understand. Calling on the spells of Elune had not always worked either. Her spells were weak and unreliable. She'd prayed and prayed for something to fix her. For something to justify the moonlight that had chosen her path as a druid.

It had been such a good omen. It was rare that the moonlight came especially to choose a druid, when they stepped into the moonwell to pray to Elune for guidance. Most often the young ones left to pursue the occupation they wanted. She had been planning to try and apply to the tree-tenders. But when she had stepped into the moonwell , the moonlight had shone, and she had walked as if in a dream straight to the druids to tell them that Elune sent her.

Her teachers had been surprised by her lack of progress. She'd even heard them whispering sometimes, wondering if the moonlight might have been mistaken. She'd worked hard, but even she was coming to doubt her own vision. When she'd shown aptitude for scholastics, the elders had let her pursue that course without complaint, even relief. They hadn't been willing to let her go out into the world, when her powers were so underdeveloped.

She tossed another stick onto the small fire. Her scholastics had led her into disaster. Obviously this wasn't what Elune wanted from her. Elune must have been furious at her abandoning her training. Maybe if she'd tried harder. Maybe if she'd spent more time communing with the spirits rather than with books, Elune wouldn't have let this happen to her. She could still feel the pain down there, in a dull ache, a constant reminder.

She had no more tears left, though anger was slowly building. Elune had chosen her, and then left her to flounder. She could have sent a message. Could have given her gifts to prove that she'd had a reason for sending her to the druids. Tree-tenders never got raped by monsters. Why couldn't she have been left to her own dreams like her classmates!

Mal'jin watched her staring into the fire. The look on her face was wild, bitter, and angry. He wasn't aware that the same look hovered on his own face. He'd swum up slowly, so that only his nose and eyes were poking above the surface. She was alone, and unarmed, and yet he was still wary of approaching.

_Come on Mal'jin. Ya gotta face ya sins. _It was the first thing the loa had told them when they'd shook off the voodoo control. Admit ya sins. Repent. Atone. Surrounded as they were by the bones of their own people, some freshly gnawed, some hadn't been able to do so. They'd gone mad, and had to be put down. Despite the rumors, the Darkspear trolls weren't cannibals. They held deep reverence for their dead, and being surrounded by desecrated bodies with an uncomfortably full feeling had been a horror that had separated the strong from the weak. The loa had ordered them to remain apart until they had reunited all the bodies of their victims, given them proper burial, and made sacrifices to atone for each one. There were many bones on the islands.

He slipped out of the water, slowly so that the splashing wouldn't alert the elf. He crouched at the edge of the firelight. Daryana was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't hear or see him approach.

"Why elf here?" He finally growled in Common. The way her head shot up and fear lined her face made the guilt in his heart twist. She grabbed a stick by her side, and held it tightly, as she dropped into a crouch. One end had been sharpened into a point with what must have been a rock. The point was aimed directly at his heart.

She licked her lips, trying to remember the words. Druids had to learn Common so that the tauren and the elves could communicate. She hadn't gotten very far in her lessons. "I passing through." She said. Her hand was tight on her makeshift spear. Strangely she wasn't afraid. She could feel a territorial rage filling her. She'd had a bad enough day. She didn't need a troll on her island.

"This troll land. Elf land far away, over sea. You go."

She bared her teeth at him. She felt an unfamiliar burn of rage. She had nothing left to her but her measly tent, and her firepit, and she'd be damned if it would be taken away. She stood up.

"No trolls on this land. Elf here first." She stamped her foot, and swung the spear around to indicate the measly little bit of island, before bringing it back to point at his throat.

Somewhere back in the back of her brain, Daryana could hear the old her wibbling in fear. The old her wanted to bring up all the things it had read about trolls, as a good reason to run. But the new her stood her ground. There was nowhere to run. She was fighting for her survival, and for the first time, she understood the feral desperation of the animals cornered by the hunters.

Mal'jin frowned. The elf was different. But then again, so was he. He hadn't been happy to find himself capable of such cruelty, even to an enemy. But the spear point was pointing at his throat, and it was disturbingly steady. Where had this fight been this morning? He was aware that to an elf, trolls weren't any less scary than predators. He was tall even among his kind, and his muscles were well-built, even over-developed from Zanzalane's manipulations and potions. He was also wearing his armor and the staff that currently rested across his thighs. She should have found him just as scary as the tiger. He was confused. She should have been broken, crying, and afraid. Not defiant, feral, and angry.

"All islands troll. Elf passing through, not elf land. Troll stay, is troll land." He hoped he was saying the right thing. His Common had been acquired from the goblins in Ratchet, and they talked so quickly he wasn't sure he'd heard properly half the time.

"Elf … hurt. When hurt better, elf leave. No trespass. Trolls leave alone. Elf leave alone."

Mal'jin winced. He knew how she was injured. He'd done it.

Daryana waited for him to ask how she was injured. She had no obvious injuries, and she'd already decided she was going to say she was sick.

"How long elf stay."

She blinked. She hadn't expected that. "Seven suns." By then she should be able to trap some rabbits or catch some fish. Enough that she could pay for passage back to the Moonglade. And by then she should be able to swim all the way to Ratchet.

Mal'jin rubbed his head, and made a clear pretense of looking around her camp. "Where elf things? Other elves have?" He gestured at his own armor, and the bag on his shoulder.

"No other elves." She said as emphatically as she could.

"Where elf things?" He insisted again.

"Stolen."

"No other elves?"

"No."

The troll thought about it. "Mal'jin stay to help elf. Make sure elf leave when not sick." He tapped his chest when he said his name. The elf's blue eyes narrowed to a squint.

"Why?"

"Spirits no like … bad kill. Kill elf child bad." He deliberately used the word child, to make sure they were both clear on how he saw her.

She crouched down again, thinking. She didn't like it, he could tell that much. But she wasn't stupid enough to push the issue. Her glance went to the lights of Sen'jin Village. She would assume he wouldn't find it hard to get friends, and he was pretty sure they both knew she wouldn't be able to kill him.

"Agree." She then drew a line in the sand, going through the middle of the fire-pit. "You half. My half. No trespass." She made jabs with the spear to indicate which was which, with a final threatening jab in his direction to indicate the idea of consequences.

Mal'jin nodded. "Agree." The troll lay down near the fire place, on his side, careful not to touch the line she'd drawn. She glanced back once at him, before ducking into her tent to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the hair, Daryana decided. She was rebuilding the fire with the few pieces of driftwood she had left, and she kept looking at the sleeping troll, a feeling of wary nervousness trickling down her spine every time she looked his way. The bright blue hair reminded her of ... of the thing. Jungle coloring tended towards bright colors. It was just her luck that she had got a guardian that reminded her of ... the thing.

She still didn't trust him, but she remembered reading a transcription of Mok'thar's meeting of the Desolace centaurs. _I walked into their tent. If I walked out again, I would know we would be able to parlay honorably. _ The callous bravery had shocked and thrilled her at the time. It seemed so reckless, so crazy! She understood now that it was less bravery than necessity. She'd woken up alive. Until he gave her a reason not to trust him, she was better off hoping this troll hadn't had any family members slaughtered by the Sentinels.

She still hurt. While bathing in the salty water had been the best she could do to clean the mess, it had aggravated the injury, especially since she'd scrubbed as hard as she could in that initial frenzy. She should be applying healing balm and changing bandages to prevent infection. Not wearing the same nasty salt-crusted clothes.

She'd considered spending the day naked in her tent, waiting for it to heal, but the troll had ruined that idea. She shifted uncomfortably from one knee to the other. Swimming, even in the sea cow form had been amazingly painful. Little muscles and tendons all the way from the backs of her legs to the top of her neck had been strained with the effort of not moving under the force being applied. She had fought against moving, so those jaws clamped around her neck wouldn't close. Those damaged muscles had stiffened up over night to the point where she could barely move without spikes of pain sending little stars sparkling in her eyes.

She saw a crab walking up onto the island and her eyes narrowed. Her stomach growled. She couldn't chase it down in her condition. She glared up at the sky, where the White Lady was only the faintest shadow in the dawning sky. "You chose me." She growled. "Help me now, or leave me alone." She focused on the crab. _This is so not going to work, _whispered her old self in the back of her head.

Mal'jin woke up just in time to see a bright white light lance down out of the sky, and fry a crab. He whipped his head around to look at the elf, who had a very surprised expression on her face. He stood up, and loped over to pick up the crab. The sand immediately around the crab had turned black.

The elf was so surprised that she didn't notice the troll until he stepped into her line of sight and picked up her breakfast. She glared at him, and stood up as quickly as she could, which wasn't very fast at all. The troll sniffed at the crab.

"Elf kill, elf eat! Troll want eat, troll go kill!" She said, angrily.

The troll blinked at her, and then walked over with the crab in hand. "Kill and cook _clakka_ one time. How? Elf not mage." He held it out to her, stopping short of the line and extending his arm over it, and she could see that the crab was in fact still steaming in the shell.

She took the crab quickly, before sitting down again in a slow process that made Mal'jin wince in guilty sympathy and look out over the water.

"How troll know elf mage or not mage?" She asked, even as she reached over for the rock she'd used to sharpen her makeshift spear. *WHACK* The crab shell split open easily along the back.

"Mage not wear skins. Elf wear skins. Elf not wear many skins, but elf not mage. Also, mage make food. Elf not make food. Elf kill _clakka_. Elf not mage."

Daryana frowned at him, even as she shoved a chunk of crabmeat in her mouth. It was delicious, even without the delicate spices and dipping butter used by the Moonglade chefs. "Elf skins not troll business." She reached back into the tent to yank her blanket out, wrapping it around herself clumsily.

"Troll not care if elf child no skins or many skins." Mal'jin tried to sound completely disinterested. "Just get sun pain or cold sick." Why had he even mentioned that she wasn't wearing any clothes? Time to change the subject. "How kill _clakka_?"

"Elf not child." She wasn't sure why she said that, but the emphasis he'd put on child had irritated her. "Elf druid. Call moon fire. Kill _clakka_." Her pronunciation was clumsy, but he understood.

Mal'jin was astonished. He hadn't known druids could wield magic. The loa had only taught them to change forms so that they could better hear the spirits. Was this why the loa wanted them to remain apart? Because they had much more to learn?

"Elf do again?" He pointed at another crab barely visible in the shallows. "Troll trade skin for breakfast."

Daryana didn't answer for a bit. She'd been as surprised as the troll when the spell had come so easily, and done what she wanted. Usually it took her several tries to get the spell to work. She didn't want to try again and fail, especially in front of a troll. But on the other hand, she could use another skin. The cold night had not come as a pleasant surprise, and she might be able to make a rough tunic or something out of it.

"Agree." She screwed up her features, and stared at the next crab. She thought about how cold she had been, and how important it was to demonstrate strength in front of the troll. She yanked for the frustration she felt. White light lanced down again.

She grinned suddenly, in relief and the heady feeling of success. That was twice in a row she'd done one powerful enough to kill small creatures! The troll hooted in a way she thought was an approving cheer, and loped off to retrieve his breakfast. Maybe Elune hadn't forsaken her after all.

Mal'jin squatted down on the other side of the fire, still careful to stay on his side of the line. He reached into his pack, and pulled out a small deer hide, tied in a bundle. It landed with a thump on her side of the line, and she untied it to hold it out for inspection. It still had the hair on one side, but the other side was well-tanned. No holes or tears though. It would work well as a blanket until she managed to find something that would work for needle and thread.

Mal'jin felt pleased with himself. He'd been able to give the elf something she needed without giving himself away, and learned something in the process. He wondered if Zen'tabra knew about the magic. He'd have to ask her later. He'd decided not to give the elf clothes directly. His Common wasn't good enough to explain why he was carrying around elf-sized clothes in his bags. She might assume the worst.

Daryana snapped another crab leg in half, and sucked the meat out, thinking. She picked up her stick, and used the pointy part to start making a list in the sand, which she titled "What I need to go home." She paused, and then wrote "Money." She'd need to pay her way to Auberdine, then she could take the boat to Darnassus, and catch the bird back to the Moonglade. Where she'd have to explain losing her hearthstone, and the several valuable books she'd borrowed from the library. "Clothes." There was no way she was going to Ratchet naked unless a bunch of _Daryana tuskafelis_ moved onto her island. She'd already heard all the dancing in the moonwell jokes.

"Healing." Daryana had never been injured out of earshot of someone friendly who would heal her or take her home, and never this much. She was amazed it had never occurred to her what would happen if she'd been badly hurt far from home. She'd barely learned to tie bandages and make salves when she'd decided to leave. What if the tiger had decided to maul her instead? She hurt now, but she was sure she would survive. It was a bitter pill to admit that the assault could have been worse, that she was lucky. It could have broken her leg, and left her to starve slowly. Her spirit would have gone to the nearest Spirit Healer. And she knew nothing about this land. There might not even be any Healers in Durotar. She could be lost and wandering forever, looking for a body that was decomposing. _Should have bought some healing potions, _said her old self smugly. Daryana felt surprisingly annoyed at herself. She was supposed to be the smart one. How could she have been so naïve?

She stared at her list, and then wiped it out with her hand. She wrote, "Things Needed." This list started with fresh water, firewood, and food. Clothes weren't necessary to survive. Water, food, and warmth were. Getting home was less important than surviving.

Mal'jin ate his crab and watched the elf muttering and scribbling in the sand. He wasn't sure what to do now. What would a normal Darkspear do, in this situation? _Dey'd probably kill da elf. They been at war wit' 'em for years. Dey wouldn't stop to listen to the loa._ That wasn't helpful. What would a merciful Darkspear who didn't want an elf-child murder on his people's conscience do? _Help within reason,but not going out of his way, do whatever he could to get the elf gone?_ _Drag the elf down to Ratchet and throw it on a boat? _ He couldn't do that. A strange troll might get noticed. The Darkspear weren't so numerous that an unknown troll wouldn't be interesting. Neither of them could afford to be seen by another troll.

"Troll." He looked up when the elf spoke. The expression on her face indicated she'd been trying to get his attention for a few minutes.

"Mal'jin." He tapped his chest again.

"Mahlyin." She repeated.

He shook his head, saying more carefully, "Mal – jin."

"Maaaahl-jin."

He shrugged. Close enough. He was surprised when she tapped her chest and said, "Dar-ee-an-a."

"Dahr-anna."

She shook her head. "Dar-EE-an-a."

"Dah-REE-anna"

"Where water not salty?" She made a drinking motion.

The troll thought about it. "Can elf swim?"

Daryana looked down. "Not this sun. Hurt."

A pair of heavy water skins landed next to her. "Next sun, show where water is." And that would give him time to warn the others to stay away from the spring on the southern corner of the island. He braced himself. He didn't want to ask. But he had to, to stay in character.

"How elf hurt?"

He didn't want to see the expression on her face. He could see the embarrassment mixed with horror for a second before her face shut down entirely.

"Just bad sun pain?" He forced himself to say a second later.

Daryana had been trying to figure out what to say, when the troll had continued. "What?" She asked.

"Skin burnt. Sun pain." He pointed at his own light blue skin, and at her darker lavender skin. "Elf wear more skins, not get sun pain." _Don't say anything._ He thought at her desperately. _Just say yes, it's a bad sunburn. Assume I'm a stupid troll who doesn't know that people are different colors."_

Daryana stared at the troll. It would be an easy lie. She could understand why he would think such a thing. Her skin did look like his would if he had been out in the sun too long. But somewhere deep in the shame and embarrassment, and the desire to slink away from the discomfort and pain of speaking of the incident, was a hard, burning kernel that refused to take the blame, even by a lie. It choked off the easy words, throttled the lies as they rose up. She may have been reckless or careless in going to the island, but she had been attacked and assaulted. She had had the choice to submit or be hurt, possibly killed. She wasn't ashamed of choosing to live. She was ashamed of her stupidity in going to the island so woefully unprepared. But she wasn't ashamed of her choice.

Dimly, she realized that if she lied now, she wouldn't have the courage ever again to say what happened. It would fester inside her, and poison her. She lifted her chin and looked directly at him.

Her lips felt numb as she said, "Elf attacked." She took a deep shuddering breath as she pointed to her crotch with a finger that wouldn't stop shaking. "Here. Hurt inside." She gripped her spear with the other hand. If he smiled, or laughed, she would try to kill him. She couldn't take that.

Mal'jin couldn't look into her eyes, as he dropped his gaze. The direct way she stared at him, the way she told the truth burned into him. The strength she displayed shamed him. The silence stretched out between them.

"Hard thing to say truth. Mal'jin sorry." He mumbled. He ran a hand over his blue braids, wishing that he could show strength equal to hers, and tell her the truth, and that he really was sorry. But it wasn't just his secret to keep.

Daryana nodded. The hard kernel inside her eased. Somehow having told one other being, even a strange, foreign, threatening one, about what happened seemed to make it less her own personal tragedy, and more just another event that happened. "Many peoples, bad things happen. Truth .. makes better."

Mal'jin ran his hand down the staff, trying to take comfort from the sign of the loa's favor. His hand still had calluses from the blades Zalazane had made him wield. Maybe he hadn't really changed as much as he hoped. "Yes. Truth is better." He struggled for a moment, trying to find the words he wanted. "Attack not elf bad thing. Attack bad thing of one attack elf."

"No. Attack not elf bad thing." She said firmly.

"Troll lands dangerous. Spirits walk. Bad spirits. Best elf go when hurt better." Mal'jin said, with emphasis.

"Elf know." Daryana said irritably. "Elf leave fastest elf can."

Mal'jin nodded. "Elf stay hide. Mal'jin go hunting. Don't talk other trolls. Not all good trolls." He felt like a hypocrite. He was the furthest definition she would have of a good troll, if she knew. He had to go. Staying around her was like having an open wound rubbed with sand.

Daryana nodded, glad he was leaving. Maybe she could use some of the water to wash the salt off. She'd spend the day in the tent as planned, trying to remember the healing spells she'd always been terrible at.

Mal'jin swam back to the big island, and waited until he was deep in the trees before he shifted into tiger form. He ran swiftly back to the camp, straight to Zen'tabra's hut. It was empty. He frowned and shifted back. The elf's books were sitting on the table. He picked one up and started flipping through it. He couldn't understand the symbols, but he found a picture of an elf calling down a bright line of white light. He was still studying the picture carefully when Zen'tabra came back in.

"Mal'jin. Ya need somethin'?"

"Elf druids use magic!" he said, excited.

"What? Like a mage?" She asked, confused.

"No. She said druids have their own magic. I saw her kill a crab with this, twice." He held the picture out to Zen'tabra who studied it as carefully as he had.

Zen'tabra blinked. "This … this be an important discovery, Mal'jin." She sat down slowly as a realization hit, so powerfully that she was sure it was right. "Maybe … maybe the loa brought her to us on purpose. Maybe dat be why dey don' let you kill her. So she can show us the things we don't know."

Mal'jin looked stricken. "An' I hurt her."

"Ya had what ya thought was good reason, and I told ya ta do it. It ain't easy ta fathom the loa. They told us to stay apart, ta hide from the world. Den dey send the world ta us." _It doesn't make sense._ Zen'tabra thought, confused. _Why not tell one of us? Why not make one of us the teacher? It wouldn't have to be me, but why someone who can't speak to us? Why send someone we would see as an enemy? _She shook her head. She'd be meditating tonight in the moonlight. Maybe the loa would give a hint.

"I tried to tell her I thought she was just sunburnt. She looked me in the eye and told me she was raped. The elf got the courage and strength ta tell the truth. Maybe, if she meant ta teach us, I can do the same." Mal'jin said, hopefully. "Tell her I regret it as much as anything I done."

Zen'tabra sighed. "Let's take it slow Mal'jin. We don't know for sure if da elf is here as a test, or as a help. Ya keep watch, and keep reportin'. If ya right, then we cross dat bridge when we come to it."

Mal'jin nodded. "Ok. She need fresh water. Can ya pass the word ta keep everyone away from da spring on the southern corner? I gonna show her that one. She probably won't go without me, outta … outta fear, but best not ta take chances."

Zen'tabra nodded. "It be done." She paused a moment, and then went to dig in a cupboard. She held out a dusty jar. "Here. It be one of the last of Zalazane's healin' potions. I don't know if it work on the elf or not, but maybe it ease her pain." _And yours. And mine._ She thought sadly, as Mal'jin grabbed the jar eagerly.

Daryana was dreaming. She was back in the Moonglade, and her favorite teacher was talking about Elune. The druids were more the servants of Cenarius and the other nature demi-gods, but Elune was still important enough to be included in the lessons.

"Elune is not a warrior goddess, despite some of the human distortions of her. She is a goddess of peace, tranquility, and tolerance. Elune wishes only for all the creatures of the world to live in harmony with each other. One can see the lesson of Elune clearly in our tauren friends. Despite the enmity our races have for each other, as druids, Elune requires our open-minded love of all other peoples. Do not assume that you have an enemy. Enemies will always show themselves. It is up to us to set the example that will lead to the peace Elune desires."

"Teacher, there are few of us, and many of them. How are we supposed to stop armies from fighting?" asked one of her classmates. "Should we allow orcs to slaughter our Sentinels in Ashenvale?"

"Small actions, child. We can only prove that some of us are trustworthy and desire peace. No one wishes for war. It is a terrible burden upon a people and a society. Death of loved ones and family causes pain. But for every being we convince of our peaceful natures, the slower they will be to attack. We must give them hope for peace, rather than certainty that they must defend themselves. We must be worthy of trust, and emissaries of peace, to be truly in Elune's favor. Sometimes, this is difficult. Sometimes, we must forgive atrocities committed out of fear. Sometimes we must bury our own pain and loss for the greater good."

Daryana had carefully written, "The greater good!" in big letters in her copybook. She'd always felt a particular love of Elune over the other deities, because of being moon-chosen. She'd been certain she'd be able to be a bastion of forgiveness and peace. As an explorer, she'd be a shining example of Elune's mercy and serenity. It wouldn't matter that she was lousy at magic, or bad at shifting. She'd be a GOOD druid anyways, because she'd do what Elune really wanted.

But then the teacher turned to look at her, and the dream seemed to change, grow more ominous. "Do you really believe that, Daryana?"

She'd been a little confused. Her teacher rarely ever put them on the spot in such a way. "Of course Mistress Witherwing."

"Oh? You'd be able to forgive?" The teacher had a derisive tone in her voice.

"Absolutely!" said Daryana with conviction.

"Forgive anything?" Daryana felt guilt rising up in her. The teacher had a smug tone, it sounded like she was leading up to something.

"Y-yes, Mistress Witherwing. Elune would have it so."

"What about this?" The teacher waved a hand, and all of a sudden a vision portal appeared in the air. It showed Daryana, and the tiger. It showed everything, from start to horrifying finish. Her classmates squealed and yelled in disgust. It seemed to focus on her face when its tongue laved her breasts, and she could hear her best friend Kalea yell, "OH GROSS, she LIKES it!" When the tiger mounted her, her classmates began calling her ugly names. Names that they should not have been old enough to know. _"She can't be one of us! That's disgusting! You're supposed to love nature, not fuck it!" _The boy she'd had a crush on yelled from the back, "If you needed it that bad, you could have just asked. We'd have found someone desperate enough to stick it in you! You didn't need to resort to THAT" The vision spared nothing. It ended only when its semen and her blood could be seen trailing down her legs.

The teacher stood in front of her now, as she sat in her desk, crumpled and weeping from shame, trying to stutter out, "But .. it wasn't my fault! I didn't want that! It .. it raped me! I didn't, I didn't!"

"Didn't you Daryana? So, now that we all know your secret, answer me. Can you forgive?"

Her classmates faded away, and now it was just Daryana and the teacher, alone in an empty room. Tears were running down her face.

"How can I forgive that! That.. that thing raped me!"

"Didn't you just say that Elune would have it so? Do you think she holds elves more sacred than the other creatures of Azeroth? What would you do if you saw the tiger again? Attack it? Kill it? Out of fear? Out of revenge?" The teacher leaned forward again, and Daryana hid her face, but Mistress Witherwing's voice carried into her ears.

"Can you forgive, Daryana?"

This time, she shook her head. "I… I don't know."

"It is easy to forgive when the hurt is not yours. Elune does not ask us to forgive only when it costs us nothing. She does not tell us that forgiveness is only for those who don't wrong us personally. She tells us to forgive. For the third time Daryana, can you forgive?"

Daryana couldn't answer, and she hung her head, this time in shame at her overestimation of herself.

When she woke up, it was dark outside, and the White Lady was shining overhead. Daryana slipped out of her tent to stare up at the larger moon. _I'll try._ She thought, her thoughts wavery and watery in her emotional upheaval. _I'll try to forgive, if that's what you want of me. But you should have picked someone stronger. I don't know if I can do this. _She noticed a pile of wood near her fire that hadn't been there earlier. Apparently her strange guardian had visited again. She built the fire back up again, and went back into the tent. She wasn't hungry, though she should have been. She added the hide to her blanket, as the daytime heat had started fading fast, and sat staring into the flames.

_I'll try._


	4. Chapter 4

Daryana watched the sun come up. It looked different on this side of the world, unfiltered by the green canopy of Teldrassil or the Moonglade. Here it was a blazing ball of fire that lit the world with a brightness that hurt her eyes if she stared at it too long. The moons had looked different too, larger and closer, though that was strangely not much comfort. She had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that her bad dream was more than just a nightmare. She'd heard the older druids talk about the Dreaming and the Emerald realm enough to know that dreams had power. She couldn't shake the certainty that Elune wanted something from her and her own reluctant admission to try had spoiled the comfortable and undemanding admiration she'd had for the goddess. Elune should have picked someone else, should have known better than to ask Daryana. Daryana was the worst druid in the history of Teldrassil, so why was SHE the one Elune wanted something so hard from? She had priestesses for this, right? They were good at forgiving people. They did it all the time.

Having the moon staring down at her all night had only made it worse. She inched her way back further into her tent as the sunlight chased the last bits of evening off her island, lonely for the misty shade of elven lands and the feeling of home, where her relationship with the world had been safe and boring.

_~You didn't want to be bored. You wanted to go out and do great things and make discoveries.~_

"Shut up." She muttered. "I did make a discovery. The _Daryana tuskefelis_ was a discovery." _Along with the fact I was really unprepared. _ She frowned, and argued back "But I ALSO learned how I was unprepared! Really, this is a …" She couldn't call it a learning experience. She hadn't wanted to learn what she had learned. "An experience. At least if I survive, the elders can't tell me I'd die if I went out on my own again. And I'd work harder on my lessons and pack more bandages and healing potions next time. And a map. And I'd make a field pack, not just one pack with everything in it." She thumped her first on the tent floor meaningfully.

_If I survive._ Well, the troll was supposed to come show her where fresh water was. That was the most important thing now. She'd gone out last night in her sea cow form and eaten a couple of fish. They seemed plentiful so food wasn't a problem. She found it amazing how much she didn't mind little things that seemed utterly out of the question before. If she'd been told the night she left that in a less than a week she'd be eating fish raw regularly, and would have gone three days without a bath, she would have laughed hysterically at the thought. Even the thought of a bathtub seemed like some far off myth. With fresh water and food taken care of, she could start to figure out how to make money, enough to take a boat home from Ratchet. And to hopefully get some clothes. But if she had to walk into Darnassus wearing torn and dirty underwear, as the price of getting home, it would be worth it. Maybe.

Mal'jin hadn't slept any better than Daryana had. The entire tribe had spent most of last night moving the children and the feebleminded to the northern island after Zentabra had made the announcement. All the trolls now knew about the elf, and though some discussion had ensued, eventually it was agreed that Zentabra's plan was the wisest. She didn't bring up his actions, saying only that Mal'jin had tried to scare her off, and it hadn't worked.

Afterwards Zinta, his twin brother, had come to find him.

"Why didn' ya tell me 'bout the elfy, bruddah?" Zinta had asked, angrily. Zinta had been chosen to be one of Zalazane's personal guard. Zalazane had encouraged Zinta's natural brutality and lust, deforming his body and mind both with his magic and his hell-brews until Zinta had been the monster the witch doctor wanted. Despite them being twins, Zinta was a foot taller than Mal'jin, and with a good fifty pounds more of muscle. Zinta's blood boiled in his veins from the evil magic, and the new peaceful existence the trolls were trying to attain was agonizingly difficult for him. The smallest slight could set him off into a violent rage, and Mal'jin and several others would have to drag him to a cave where Zinta would howl and claw at the walls, biting himself and the stone door until his rage subsided.

Zinta was trying though, and while he was one of the worst, he wasn't the only one who found the road to repentance hard going. The trolls had decided to stay apart from the other Zandali until they were sure that their madness was contained, but they had all succumbed to the after effects of the voodoo at one time or another. Such attacks were getting less in some cases as they made atonement, but sometimes Mal'jin wondered if Zinta really meant his sacrifices, or if deep down, he missed the "freedom" of bloodlust and violence that Zalazane had encouraged Zinta to wallow in.

"Zentabra asked me not ta until she knew what ta do about her. The loa ain't bein' clear what the elfy is ta do with us." Mal'jin said carefully. "Calm ya'self Zinta. Ain't no thing ta worry about."

"Zentabra! She more important dan ya bruddah? I could have scared it off," said Zinta, still unappeased. Mal'jin never understood. Fighting and letting the rage burn relieved the demons driving inside him, and the idea that he'd missed a chance to let some of it out on an "allowed" target had made Zinta furious. "Did ya even draw blood?" He stood up, flexing the massive muscles that made even Mal'jin's look puny.

Mal'jin didn't answer for a moment. "Yeah. I drew blood." He could still smell it, the mix of coppery blood, and sex, and salt, and the thought made him sick.

Zinta squinted at him, dropping back into a squat. "What ain'cha tellin' me, little brother." His tone seemed almost relaxed, coaxing, as he placed a big hand on Mal'jin's shoulder.

Mal'jin sighed. "The loa, they told me not ta kill the elf. But Zentabra tell me she gotta go, 'cause we ain't ready yet for de world. So.. I .. I raped the elfy Zinta." Mal'jin was staring down at the sand and missed Zinta's sudden smile.

"Ya did? Maybe we more alike den I thought" said Zinta with that smile getting wider. "And she still didn't go?" His hand squeezed reflexively on Mal'jin's shoulder.

"She was hurt. 'Cause … cause I weren't a troll when I did it." Mal'jin still wasn't paying attention to the tone in his brother's voice.

"Whatcha mean ya … Ooohh." The tone of relish in Zinta's voice made Mal'jin look up sharply. Zinta's lips were drawn back in a feral grin. "That be nasty Mal! Did the elfy like it? Dat why she be stayin'?"

"No! She ..." Mal'jin paused, confused. Was he completely wrong about the elf? He'd smelled her response when he licked her, but that could just be biological, right? Or were the night elves more perverted than trolls? Either way, he was pretty sure she had been trying to get away, but she hadn't used her magic which seemed pretty powerful to him. Had she been too terrified?

Zinta pounced on his hesitation. "So the elfy did like it! She liked ruttin' with a wild animal!"

"No! No, she didn't like it!" said Mal'jin in alarm. "Zinta, ya gotta leave the elf alone."

"Wanna keep it for ya'self? Bein' selfish little brother." Said Zinta with a laugh that made Mal'jin realize the enormity of his mistake.

"Nah, Zinta, that ain't it, please, ya gotta listen ta me."

"I heard enough. Dun' worry 'bout ya elf-hooker, I won't hurt her." With that, Zinta transformed and loped off into the jungle, howling the tiger's love song as he went.

Mal'jin stared after him with troubled eyes. Zinta had been far too interested for Mal'jin to be comfortable. He was pretty sure Zentabra hadn't mentioned which of the little islands the elf was on during the meeting, but it wouldn't take Zinta more than a couple days to find the trail. The islands weren't that big.

Mal'jin chewed on his lip, before he went to find Zentabra.

"Zentabra?"

Zentabra had been asleep when Mal'jin knocked, but she got up to answer the door, peering through a crack. "What be wrong Mal'jin?" She asked, though with a bit of edge to her voice that indicated that whatever he wanted had better be important.

"Tomorrow, can ya .. can ya make sure Zinta be in camp while I take the elf to da spring?"

Zentabra rubbed her forehead. "Mal… what did ya tell ya brother?"

Mal'jin's uncomfortable silence was enough.

"I do mah best, Mal'jin, but ya know ya brother be sneaky. Best ya hadn't ever told him."

"I know. I just ... I know."

"Anyt'ing else?"

"Nah. Sorry ta be wakin' ya up Zentabra."

The door shutting again was his only answer. The sky was already turning bright pink in preparation for the sunrise, and he had a long walk to get to Daryana's island.

Daryana had gotten dressed as best she could, and was sharpening the point on her stick out of nervousness, when Mal'jin stepped onto the island. He shook himself off, somewhat like the tauren did when they came out of the lake. The thought made her smile for a second.

"Elf hurt less? Go find water?" Mal'jin asked abruptly. The lack of sleep was making him distinctly cranky. He wanted to get this over with.

"_Elune_ say hurt less … " She struggled to find the word, before muttering to herself in frustrated Darnassian, "This is ridiculous." She switched back to Common. "Teach elf troll talk. Make talk easy. This talk bad." _Maybe instead of a treatise on the Daryana tuskefelis, I can write a book on troll speech, _her old self murmured hopefully in the back of her brain. It wouldn't have the explorer's cachet of a new discovery, but it might still be important enough to get library space.

Mal'jin rocked back on his heels. If Zentabra was right, the elf had been sent here by the _loa_ to teach them. And if so, then teaching her their language would be the right thing to do. But would it arouse her suspicions? He didn't know if the Zandali trolls would be willing to teach a stranger their language. In a lot of ways, the other Zandali trolls were as much a mystery to him as the elves were. Was it a trick on her part? Some way to see through his deception? But if he taught her their language then maybe one day, he'd be able to explain. Maybe he'd be able to apologize in a way she'd understand. No sooner had this thought occurred then he nodded.

"Troll teach elf talk right." He agreed.

The elf's lips twitched, as she said pointedly in Common. "Elf talk fine. Troll talk wrong." She started to smile until she caught sight of his bright blue hair as it started to dry and stick straight up, in a way that reminded her of the mane of the _tuskefelis_. A shiver ran down her spine and she hurriedly turned to pick up the water skins. Terror, sudden and surprising, set her heart pounding, and she found it suddenly hard to breathe with the fear that was strangling her. In vain she tried to tell herself it was all right, that this was just an ... an echo of the trauma bouncing in her brain.

Mal'jin laughed at the elf's retort, though his own laughter faded as he watched her expression close itself off again. He couldn't tell if she was afraid of him, or if something else was wrong. When she started shaking, he reached a hand out carefully to touch her shoulder. "Elf? What wrong elf?"

She shook her head, lips compressed tight, as she stared down at the sand, desperately trying to get control of herself. She wasn't strong enough for this, she wasn't. Right now she wanted to both scream, and throw things, to run in a blind panic until the adrenaline wore off, but if she did that, the troll would misunderstand. He might think she had the mad sickness, and kill her. She had to get a grip.

She didn't realize that she was speaking out loud, mumbling, "Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip." until the troll's voice cut across, saying "Dah-REE-anna, what gettagrip?" She felt for the first time, the warm tips of his fingers resting on her shoulder. She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to breathe more slowly.

She jerked away from his fingers, unable to bear the touch of another being while her skin felt like it was crawling on her bones. To try and cover it, she stood up, pacing around the island. "Elf fine. Mahl-jin. Go water?"

The troll peered at her worriedly. The elf didn't seem fine, but he didn't know what was wrong. She looked like some of the ... Oh. He understood now. When the trolls had first come back to their own minds, some of them had what Zentabra termed ghost-pains. Sometimes something would remind them, like coming across an old sacrificial blade, or finding a particularly foul cache of bodies with teeth marks gnawed into the bone, of what they had done and they would shiver and shake, sometimes crying, sometimes babbling, unable to move on or even interact until the ghost pain went away. Maybe what he had done had given the elf ghost-pains. The thought stabbed inside him. Surely the _loa _were angry with him.

"No hurt here, elf." He tried. "Wait until … until hurt stop." The elf had a haunted look in her eyes, and he wasn't sure she was seeing him clearly. In fact, she seemed to be trying not to look at him. The elf shook her head.

"No, need water. Elf fine." She said again.

The troll squinted at her. She wasn't breathing quite so hard, and the color was coming back into her face. He was pretty sure she wasn't fine, but he couldn't do anything to help. "Ok. We go get _bala_."

Daryana could feel her heart still thudding against her ribs, though not quite as hard as before. "Water. Bala. Ok." She picked up the water skins she'd reached for when the panic attack had hit, and just gestured with her stick. "Elf go."

Mal'jin nodded, and pointed towards the big island. "Go down side. _ Bala_ there." He headed into the water, and a few moments later, Daryana followed after him. She held onto her stick as they swam. Progress seemed slow and awkward to her in comparison to the ease with which her sea cow form moved, but she wasn't leaving her weapon behind this time. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was all she had. He was a much faster swimmer than she was, though he didn't say anything when he stopped to wait for her to catch up. By the time they got onto the beach, she was already feeling the muscle aches coming back again. Her body hadn't recovered from the strains and aches so easily, and the swim was a chore. She staggered onto the sand, and sunk to her knees, breathing hard.

Mal'jin glanced at the elf for a moment, before he crouched down on the shore, looking at some indentations in the sand with a deep frown. The paw prints were fresh. It could be one of the patrols, but Zentabra had been clear.

"What troll see?" asked Daryana.

Mal'jin stood quickly, scuffing the tracks with his feet. "Sea high today. Elf no worry. Come, get _bala_, we go."

Her blue eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. He'd just lied to her. She was sure of it. "Mal'jin speak bad." She said. She wasn't sure what the troll was upset about, but she had seen that frown and it wasn't because the tide was higher than usual. She got a firmer grip on her stick. "Danger?"

Mal'jin shook his head again. "Dar-anna not worry. Mal'jin here. Troll worry, not elf worry. No danger." He hoped he wasn't lying.

He shrugged his shoulders, and unslung his staff. He was more careful than usual as he led the way to the spring, pausing often to listen and sniff the air. _Please don't be Zinta. Anyone but Zinta. _He couldn't tell who had left the tracks, and his troll nose wasn't keen enough to pick out whose spoor had been left behind. The elf stayed close behind him. Sometimes she did the same things he did, watching him carefully as if taking lessons on how to move.

Daryana hadn't paid much attention during the survival classes. The ones the hunters taught to all the young ones, to make sure they knew how to feed themselves, and move through the woods unseen. Her reasoning had been simple. She was going to be a druid. Why should she learn to commune with nature when she was going to BE part of it? But now it was different. Mal'jin was two feet taller than she was, and one of his legs was as bigger around than her waist. He was much more muscular than the pictures of the trolls in the species books they'd studied. She wasn't sure what he'd done to get muscles that grossly overdeveloped, but she was certain that if he was being cautious, then there was a reason. She didn't believe his statement about there being no danger for a single minute. Especially because she KNEW there were dangerous creatures on the island. She wasn't sure who would win in a fight between the troll and the _tuskefelis_, but she knew that she didn't have a chance against either.

So now she did her best to step where he stepped, to stop when he stopped. When he seemed to listen, she stopped to listen. When he sniffed the air, she did too. If it was telling him anything, she couldn't see what it was, but she figured if he sensed something, he would let her know, and then she could tell if anything was there at all.

_When I get back to Darnassus, I am going to apologize to every single one of my teachers._ She promised herself. Starting with her forest lore teacher and first aid teacher. She got lost in thinking about how she was going to make elaborate apologies to each one when she ran into Mal'jin's back.

"Bala, elf." Mal'jin pointed at the small spring. He paused a second, and then said, "Mal'jin go that way." He pointed off towards a thick copse of trees. "Not see elf. Hear elf if elf speak. Elf wash. Elf smell bad." As if his point wasn't humiliatingly clear, he handed her a bar of soap. But it was necessary. She was leaving a scent trail a mile wide. Anyone could track her down. He wondered if he could talk her into moving islands, just in case.

Daryana's face went dark purple. She did smell, she could tell, but it was humiliating having a savage primitive say so. And it wasn't her fault, it wasn't like there was a bathhouse on her island. She grabbed the soap without saying anything. She waited until he disappeared behind the trees, before heading for the spring. She filled the water skins up first, and then slipped into the water.

She didn't trust the troll not to look so she went in until she was up to her chin, before taking her clothes off and scrubbing them hard with the soap and handfuls of sand. She tucked them under her foot while she washed the rest of her, in a thorough but hurried fashion. The sense of danger hadn't left her, and the feeling that she was being watched by the silent jungle around her made her too nervous to enjoy the feeling of removing days of grime and salt. She ducked her head and washed her hair, which was so tangled and snarled that she shuddered to think what it looked like. She rubbed more of the greasy soap into it, and tried to comb most of the snarls out with her fingers before ducking to rinse again. She looked longingly towards a particularly sunny spot on the shore that would be perfect to lay in and dry off, but she squirmed back into her wet but clean loincloth and breast binding before she moved back towards the shore.

Mal'jin had changed shapes the instant he was sure the elf couldn't see him. His much keener nose immediately told him who was roaming around. ~_Zinta. Where the hell are ya.~ _ He shivered in trepidation, the animal instinct to avoid the larger male trickling through his brain. He wasn't a match for his brother physically and they both knew it. If Zinta was here to see the elf, there was nothing Mal'jin would be able to do about it.He padded away the spring, following Zinta's trail. At this point, he wasn't sure if it'd be worse for the elf to see Zinta, or himself in the form of her assailant.

Zinta had spent the night wandering around the spring, amusing himself by laying trails all over the place. He'd even made sure to leave paw prints in some conspicuous areas, so Mal'jin would know he was here. By the time Zinta was done, even the most skilled tracker wouldn't have been able to find him in the mess of confusion. Which meant his vantage point in the tree upwind of the spring was virtually undetectable. When Mal'jin had walked right underneath him, he'd considered jumping down and scaring him, but his curiosity regarding the elf made him stay put.

He didn't understand what Mal'jin was saying to the elf, but Zinta was busy staring down at the purple shadows in her cleavage, and in the back of the pathetic excuse for a rag she called underwear. When Mal'jin handed her the soap, and pointed towards the spring, Zinta nodded approvingly.

When the elf stepped into the water, Zinta licked his lips. She wasn't that much smaller than the troll women, but she wasn't wearing near as many clothes. Mal'jin was an idiot. If the elf didn't want him to look at her body, she would be wearing more clothes. He leaned forward a little bit, to try and get a better look at the elf's breasts.

When Zalazane had been in charge, he'd let his enforcers have whatever woman they wanted, hoping to breed in the changes he'd inflicted, sometimes while he watched. Deep down, Zinta did wish for things to go back the way they were. Even the loss of the ability to think for himself seemed minor in comparison to the freedom to fuck or fight whatever he wanted, without the constant whining about making atonement and living in peace. He'd never been much of a thinker anyways. The troll women weren't as willing to mate with him now. They said he was too violent, that he went too far, just because he'd accidentally broken one arm. It wasn't as if it hadn't healed back eventually, but something about the act of mating made the bloodlust surge within him. They should understand that. He felt that they were just making excuses not to fuck him, doing it just to make him angry. He was the biggest male in the village. He should be a prime choice for a mate, but instead the bitches made excuses and laughed at him behind his back.

But the elf now, that was different. If any "accidents" happened, no one would mind. He could sate himself in her, and even Zentabra couldn't complain, 'cause precious Mal'jin had done the same thing on her orders. He'd keep his promise to Mal'jin though. He wouldn't hurt her too much. As the elf scrubbed he slid down the back of the tree quietly, taking his clothes off in the bush cover. He could wait until she was all clean, before he got her all dirty again.

Mal'jin had just found himself walking in a circle again. Damn Zinta! The bastard had left trails upon trails all around the spring, and there was no telling where he was. Even as minutes passed, he got more and more nervous. He shouldn't have left the elf alone. He turned to head back to the spring, hoping he hadn't made a mistake trying to find his brother first.

Daryana stepped out of the spring, picked up her makeshift spear, and tucked it in the crook of her arm as she started squeezing the water out of her hair. She looked around, and could make out a shock of blue hair sitting in the bushes nearby. She frowned. She'd known the stupid troll was watching. Well, he couldn't have seen anything from there. She'd made sure to go deep enough for that. She hoped he was disappointed, the jerk.

"Mal'jin." She said, pointing her stick at the bushes where he was hiding, letting disapproval and anger fill her voice. "I see you Mal'jin. You bad troll break promise."

Zinta stirred as she pointed at him. He could see her nipples pressing against the breast binding, and he wanted to rip it off and bite them. When she said his brother's name, he smirked. She wanted him that bad, did she? She looked mad that he hadn't come out right away. Well, he was happy to give her what she deserved. He stepped out of the shadows, loping towards her.

She realized her mistake immediately. The troll that came out of the bushes wasn't Mal'jin. This troll was much bigger, and the expression on his face scared her. And he was naked.

"Stop!" She said, jabbing her spear in his direction so he'd understand. "Go away!"

Zinta laughed at the elf pointing her stick at him and jabbering. He'd frightened her, and the thought made him grin. He held up both hands, stopping a few feet away. "Is ok elf. I just want to be good to you." He said in Zandali, a crooning tone intended to soothe.

Daryana couldn't understand what he said, but he'd stopped, and held up both hands. That was supposed to be the peace gesture right? Maybe it was ok. Maybe Mal'jin mentioned her to his tribe? Maybe they all had blue hair and were excessively large for trolls. She lowered her stick a couple inches. She didn't want him to attack if she could avoid it.

"Elf just here for water. Bala. No hurt troll, no hurt elf." She pointed at the spring, and took a step back, indicating she didn't claim the water.

Zinta nodded as if he understood what she was saying, and took two steps forward. She was within reach now, but he was enjoying this game. "I'm gonna enjoy ya elfy. Been a while, but don' worry, I'll be nice." He reached up slowly and patted her on the head, like he'd seen hunters do with their pets. "I bet ya enjoy ridin' troll cock, don'cha. Don't worry, I got plenty."

Daryana blinked as the giant troll reached up and patted her on the head, still talking in the language she didn't understand. _Ok, apparently he's big but friendly. Maybe he was just here for a bath too. _ Then the troll reached down and grabbed her breast binding, and pulled her towards him without warning.

"NO!" She yelled furiously, as the troll yanked at her top, making her breasts bounce free. Her eyes glanced downward, and his intention was suddenly obvious. "NO NO NO!" She screamed in a sudden burst of rage. _What is it with everything on this island wanting to rape me?_ Her old self complained in the back of her head, even as it was ignored by the new her that said, _We will not tolerate this! _ The fear tried to beat at her, _don't make it angry, just submit_ but it was powerless in the face of a new steely resolve that made her bring the spear up, and jab it deep into his shoulder.

Zinta roared in pain, dropping the elf. Her spear caught in his flesh, and jerked out of her hands. As she dropped down to the ground, she felt her blood pounding in her veins, and she realized that she was angry, not afraid. She was NOT going to be assaulted again. Not without a fight. That fact was an unyielding core that she barely understood, but it was a simple, single thought, and it burned in her brain with power.

She caught herself roaring back, even as her body changed, grew massive muscles and the thick coat of protection. Giant claws spread from her fingertips, and she stood on her hind legs as her defiance echoed through the jungle.

_Daryana had gone to the bear spirit several times in secret. "Great Bear spirit?"_

"_Yes child?" the spirit had said, as if each time it wasn't aware why she had come yet again._

"_Are you ... are you REALLY sure that you gave me your blessing? Because I've tried and tried to change form, and I just can't do it!" She'd admitted sadly._

"_Do you remember what I said, young one?"_

_She'd sighed. "Yes Great Bear Spirit. I must learn the strength of the head, and the strength of the heart. I must rely on the strength of the bear's body in order to master the way of the claw. And I must show resolve for that which I believe in, and be willing to fight for it." She'd repeated with the sing-song tone of someone who had heard the lesson several times. _

_The Bear Spirit had waved a claw. "Then you understand why you fail. Perhaps you have yet to learn what it means to be strong, what it means to have the conviction of protecting one's den or one's young. When you have learned this, you will find the change an easy one. Go in peace."_

"_But I am resolved! I am totally resolved. I concentrate really hard each time I try!" She'd argued in vain. The spirit just kept walking, ignoring her lists of everything she had done to be resolved, though she had the impression that it listened kindly. She'd even tried lifting weights over her head for a while to get stronger in case strength was the problem, but that hadn't worked either. _

Zinta ripped the spear out of his shoulder. Blood spurted out as he snapped it into pieces in rage. It had gone deeper than he'd expected, and the elf being able to draw blood offended him. When he saw the bear standing in front of him, teeth bared and claws out, he stopped in surprise, before he understood that the elf had changed forms and was challenging him. Challenging his strength. He howled a battle cry, and charged.

Mal'jin was running now. He had heard the elf's yelling, but the faintness of the sound made him realize he'd gone farther away than intended. Then he heard Zinta howling in pain. Maybe something was attacking them both, because he was sure the elf was no match for Zinta. He bounded over a log, begging the spirits for more speed, more time. The air was rushing past him, the grass turned into razors that slashed at him with the speed he was dashing through it. When he got closer, he heard the sound of two large animals crashing in what sounded like an hell of a fight.

_Loa, I hope the elfy be all right! Maybe Zinta be savin' her from something._ Mal'jin's hope died when he landed in the clearing, shifting back into his troll form. Zinta was locked in combat with a very, very large bear, and both of them were bleeding heavily. He'd watched a druid in Booty Bay change into the shape of the bear from the window of his room in the inn. He'd been so afraid of being caught that he'd snuck out that night. Even with that, it took him a moment to realize that the elf was the bear.

"Zinta! Stop! Ya gotta stop, Zinta!" Mal'jin yelled, even as he ran up towards the two. The bear had turned to look at him, and Zinta took advantage of the moment to start to change forms into the tiger. Zinta was foaming at the mouth, in full battle-rage. He wasn't even capable of hearing Mal'jin, and paid him no attention.

"Oh Loa, no, ZINTA, ya can't change!"

The bear took one look at the tiger, and then it charged, knocking the tiger hard against a tree, before it proceeded to maul him with a savagery that shocked Mal'jin. Zinta had made a mistake. The second or two it was taking him to change forms had given the bear the advantage, and Daryana was taking all of it. In her animal brain, she saw the shape of the attacker who had hurt her a few days ago, and her mind went red with rage.

Mal'jin dove between them, babbling in Zandali and Common but Daryana backhanded him so hard he flew back four feet, landing heavily enough to knock the air out of his lungs. Stars danced in his vision. A second later, her jaws closed on the tiger's neck, snapping Zinta's spine. The bear didn't stop though, as it trampled its attacker, bones snapping underneath the huge paws. Mal'jin managed to stagger back to his feet.

"Dar-anna! Stop! Please!" He didn't dare approach the bear again, hoping only that she would come out of her battle rage. There was nothing he could do for Zinta now. The tiger form shifted back into Zinta's troll body as the soul fled, and the bear backed away from it. She turned to look at Mal'jin and snarled at him in warning. Rage still coursed through her veins, and the conviction to kill was white hot.

He carefully walked around in as circular a path as he could, around the bear towards his brother's mangled corpse. He knelt next to the bloody body, and tears started running down his face.

"Troll attack elf! Where Mal'jin!" He heard, though the voice seemed far away.

"Mal'jin, what the hell?" It was Zentabra's voice. She and six of the tribe's warriors stepped out of the treeline. "We came ta find Zinta. Did ... Did YOU do this?"

Daryana could have cried when more trolls appeared. She was so tired that the idea of another fight was out of the question. Her resolve seemed to have dried up now that the initial threat had been dealt with. She was covered in blood, both the trolls and hers, and she could feel some of the deeper bite marks and gouges still bleeding. But she moved to pick up the sharp point of her stick now only two feet long, lying a few feet away from her.

"Zentabra, Zinta, he … I think he came ta hurt the elf. The elf, she … she killed Zinta, but," Mal'jin could barely continue through his tears. "Zinta weren't the best brother, but it weren't his fault he was a monster. Zalazane, he made him what he was, and now he won't ever get the chance ta be better. The spirits won't let him come back for all his sins he ain't atoned for."

The troll warriors stared at the elf, as if trying to reconcile her with the bloody mangled mess of the troll that usually took six of them to subdue when he was enraged, but then they all quickly looked away. The blood and battle marks on her told the truth, but it was hard to believe. Zentabra walked over to Mal'jin, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "We'll take him back with us, give him the proper rites. Tell the spirits that he didn't have much chance. They may understand."

Daryana had turned back into an elf as soon as Mal'jin had turned towards the corpse of the troll that attacked her, but now that she was an elf, the thoughts that had been too complex for the bear brain came rushing in. _That troll turned into a tiger. Like a druid! Only druids can take on the forms of animals, but the trolls have never been druids. The daryana tuskefelis isn't a new animal at all! _ Disappointment quickly faded as the new realization hit like a thunderbolt. _I've discovered a new group of DRUIDS! _ The Circle was going to have collective apoplexy when they found out about this. Especially because the new group of druids was another Horde race. There were still some of the elven druids who felt that the tauren shouldn't be allowed to be part of the circle.

_And one of them raped me. And had to know what it was doing! One of them raped me as an animal on PURPOSE. _ She stared at the mangled corpse. Had she already avenged herself? The blue hair looked like the same color. But so did Mal'jin's. And the other trolls had various shades of purple and blue hair. Was she remembering it correctly? How would she know?

Zentabra squeezed Mal'jin's shoulder. "Ya gotta talk the common to the elf, Mal. She staring at us and I think ya brother done tipped her off. She gotta come with us. She too dangerous to let go home until the loa say. Try and explain I don' wanna fight. She look done in, so maybe she don't wanna fight either."

Mal'jin patted his brother's cheek, before standing up, and turning to the elf. He ran his hand down his braids, before saying, "Dar-anna, need come with trolls. Trolls no hurt elf, elf no hurt trolls. Trolls hide, need elf hide too."

Those glowing blue eyes stared at him, then at Zentabra and the six other trolls, who were rolling Zinta's body up into a large piece of cloth. It was proving decidedly difficult, with how squishy the corpse was.

"No hurt elf?" She asked as a way of buying some time. Daryana couldn't decide. Her brain was running in circles. Elation at having finally managed to shift into the bear form. Disgust and anger at the troll who'd attacked her. Queasiness at the fact she was sure she had a piece of troll still stuck in her teeth and at the brutality she felt she should regret but didn't. Jubilation at the realization that discovering a new type of druid was going to get her name written down PERMANENTLY on the Circle's roster. She'd made the discovery of the century! Was it stupid to go into the troll camp? She didn't know what they wanted, or what they were hiding from.

Mal'jin nodded. "No hurt Dar-anna. Mal'jin say." He pointed at Zentabra. "Zentabra say. Zentabra say for all trolls here." He paused, before adding, "But Mal'jin would help elf, Zentabra say or not say."

"Zintah-bra." Repeated Daryana. The troll woman was watching her carefully, looking back and forth between her and Mal'jin. When she said her name, the troll woman smiled, revealing teeth that had been filed to sharp points.

_I really hope that's just for aesthetic reasons, and not a sign of cannibalism. Elune, I hope they're not going to EAT that guy. _ She thought, before taking stock of her options. There really weren't any. She was hurt, tired, and outnumbered. She nodded. "Elf go with trolls."

Zentabra looked at Mal'jin who said, "She'll come with us peaceably." Zentabra nodded, and took off the cloak she was wearing. "Here, give this to da elf. She can't go around with her boobies hangin' out."

Daryana watched as Mal'jin blinked at whatever it was the woman troll had said. He turned to look at Daryana, before he screwed his eyes tightly shut muttering something that sounded vaguely like a curse. He grabbed the cloak, and walked it over to the elf, holding it up between them like a curtain.

"Zentabra say elf wear. Elf lose skin."

Daryana blinked, and then looked down. She grabbed for the cloak, and wrapped it tightly around herself, blushing furiously. She'd been so caught up in the fight, and the aftermath, that she hadn't even noticed her breasts were still hanging out. _Awesome. You just met the head of a new race of druids half-naked, with seven other male primitives standing around ogling. Best first impression EVER._

The other trolls had gotten a hold of the bundle containing Zinta, and were heading off into the forest without looking back.

Zentabra shook her head. "Come on Mal. We gotta lotta explainin' ta do."


	5. Chapter 5

The head druid and Mal'jin were arguing as they headed through the jungle. Daryana was struggling to keep up. They'd fallen naturally into their longer strides and were loping along at a speed that astonished her, apparently impervious to the clutching, poking, infuriating jungle mass. She could feel the deep gash on her thigh protesting with each step, and the bite marks on her shoulders and arms were probably getting infected from troll spit. She was also fairly sure her feet were starting to get blisters from all the rocks and branches she'd stepped on. A mass of vines whipped her in the face, and she glared at the trolls ahead of her. Were they trying to make her beg them to slow down? Was this some lesson of some sort? It's not like they hadn't noticed she'd just been in a big fight for her LIFE or anything. She'd decided after the last prickly bush that she'd be damned before she said anything and interrupted their precious conversation.  
"I know that Mal'jin, but we can't let the elf go back and tell the druids we're here!" said Zentabra vehemently. "You know what Zanza said. The elves and tauren still fight and kill each other, despite their both being druids, and the elves kill normal trolls without even talking first. The ... the Horde and the Alliance ain't on the same side, even if the druids are supposed to be neutral. What if the elf druids decide they're not putting up with us, and come ta wipe us out, without mentioning it to tha tauren? We don't even know if the tauren will accept us as fellow druids either. They may even help the elves wipe us out. Think we some kinda pollution of Zalazane."  
"We can't keep her a prisoner forever, Zentabra! We don't know why she came, but I don't think it was ta find us." Mal'jin argued.  
"I'm not saying we keep her forever, Mal'jin. I'm saying we keep her until we stronger and can defend ourselves, maybe even see if we can talk her into helping us. Maybe she'll stay ta teach us anyways."  
"The tribe ain't gonna like it, especially 'cause Zinta's dead. Who's gonna make sure no one tries ta hurt her like Zinta did?" He paused, and muttered, "Like I did."  
"You is, Mal'jin. She trusts you a little, and you can talk the Common with her."  
"So can Zanza, and so can Leebo." He said, gesturing back to where the elf was thrashing along behind them. "She gonna figure out it was me hurt her, even if I don't tell her myself first. That ain't gonna build the trust ya want."  
Zentabra frowned, thinking. Eventually she shook her head. "Ya gotta point Mal'jin, but if we surround her with strangers, takin' away the only face she knows, she ain't gonna understand that either. All three of ya will try and teach the elf ta talk Zandali, maybe ya all make friends, then we don't lose everything."  
Mal'jin sighed. "Where we gonna keep her? Not many of the huts got doors."  
"She stay with ya until we build somethin' for her." Zentabra held up a hand as Mal'jin made a noise of protest. "Ya the only troll we can trust ta care for the elf. We'll move her when we can, but for now, it's either your cabin or mine, and her stuff is sittin' right on my table." She sighed, "I'm sorry Mal'jin. I know it ain't easy havin' ya sin under ya roof, but this be necessary."  
Mal'jin tried to think of another argument, but he couldn't. Zentabra was right. The other trolls wouldn't be willing to let the elf live with them after word of what she'd done to Zinta got around, and "accidents" might happen if any of them were forced to harbor the elf.  
He stopped suddenly, crouching down. A small gleam of white had caught his eye. A few seconds of excavation revealed a rib. He carefully removed it, murmuring thanks to the loa, while Zentabra waited. He grabbed one of the red dust bags they all carried, and threw it around the spot, marking it. Later he'd come back and see if there were any more bones nearby.  
He tucked it carefully into his bag, before looking around. "Zentabra? Where the elf go?"  
Zentabra looked around surprised. "She was right there. Wasn't she? Shit, maybe she not movin' so fast as we were, bein' hurt."  
Mal'jin started running back the way they'd come, cursing himself for not paying attention. He had to be the worst guardian in Azeroth. He ran for nearly five minutes before he heard Daryana calling his name. He skidded to a stop, and looked around, confused. He hadn't seen the elf.  
"Look up, stupid troll!"  
He looked up. Daryana was hanging by an ankle in one of the hunters' deadfall traps, still clutching Zentabra's cloak tightly around her chest, and glaring at him for all she was worth.  
"Mal'jin sorry. Mal'jin very very sorry, elf." He went hunting around in the bushes until he found the anchor point. "Trolls go too fast. Trolls sorry."  
The elf started yelling at him in her language. He wasn't sure what she was calling him, but he was absolutely positive it wasn't complimentary. He tried to lower her down slowly, but he still had to drop her the last three feet. The hunters didn't build the traps for kindness to the prey. She landed hard with a thump and a screech of pain.  
He loped back over to her. "Mal'jin sorry, rope bad. Elf ok?"  
Daryana was trying to decide if she wanted to cry or yell more as soon as she got some air back into her lungs. She had never been hurt for longer than it took to go find the nearest healer and she had been sore and aching for days even before the fight with the troll. Now on top of the bites and the gashes and the claw-marks and the muscle aches, her ankle was aching with a sharp throbbing that meant it might be broken. She'd never broken anything before in her life. She wanted nothing more than to be home in bed with her friends petting her and taking care of her, bringing her healing potions with iced melon juice to wash them down and mandu cakes in case she felt peckish. Not stuck on some stupid island, with some stupid trolls, hurting worse than she ever had before and alone.  
"NO, Elf not ok! Stupid bad troll hurt elf, Mal'jin hurt elf, everyone hurt elf, and elf not _balashin'do _OK!" She yanked on the cloak, trying to re-wrap it around herself.  
Mal'jin sighed. He muttered in Zandali. "Poor elf. Serve us right if your people did come and slaughter us." He shook his head, and reached down to check her ankle. The rope burn was an ugly red mark on top of the rapidly purple swelling. He was careful in how he touched it, but the elf's gasp of pain told him enough. He also noticed the blisters on the bottom of her feet. He unslung his pack and dug in it. He found the healing potion that Zentabra had given him, and held it out to the elf.  
"Elf drink. Make hurt better."  
"What drink?

" It looked like swamp mud, and smelled sour.  
"Good drink. Elf drink, make hurt better."  
"What in drink?"  
He was pulling a few lengths of the bandages out of his pack, and made an impatient noise. "Elf like hurt?"  
"No."  
"Elf drink. Make hurt better."  
"What in drink?"  
He shrugged and said in Zandali, "Frog testicles, whisker grass, snake liver, and fish bile, in straight jungle rum."  
She glared at him suspiciously. It didn't look like any healing potion she'd ever seen, and she didn't understand a single one of those ingredients. It was distinctly brownish and murky looking. Healing potions were supposed to be clear and red, she was fairly certain. It was also a BIG jar.  
"Troll SURE drink good?"  
"Yes. Elf drink, make hurt better." He hoped. He really wasn't sure if troll voodoo potions worked on elves. He picked up her bad ankle carefully, and began wrapping it and her foot with the bandages.  
The sudden spike of pain as he moved her ankle made Daryana dizzy. _Too much blood loss. He probably wouldn't be bandaging my foot just to poison me. _With that, she took a deep breath and drained the bottle. It was the worst tasting thing she'd ever drunk. She gagged, several times. Mal'jin handed her one of the water skins, and she promptly rinsed her mouth out and spat three times. The stuff seemed to cling to the inside of her mouth and tongue.  
The vile concoction tingled and burned all the way down, and the dizziness only seemed to get worse. Mal'jin finished bandaging the one foot, and picked up the other. He wrapped it carefully, before asking, "Elf still bleeding?"  
Daryana said pitifully, "Maybe." She was starting to feel distinctly sorry for herself. She was probably going to die in this stupid jungle, eaten by trolls, and never see her family or friends or home again. She sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.  
"Where?" Mal'jin asked, alarmed by the fact the elf looked like she was about to cry. "It be ok elf, Mal'jin help!"  
Daryana shifted the cloak to show him the ugly gash on her thigh. It wasn't bleeding as much now, more oozing through the breaking scabs, but it was still deep. ~_It'll probably scar too._ _An ugly, ugly scar._ _One of those with the built up tissue and the darker color that meant you can't help but notice it. Gross. Maybe I'll even get a limp.~_ She'd always hoped to maybe get a few cute little scars that would show off her prowess without marring her looks, but could be romantically noticed in an intimate situation, perhaps commented upon with admiration and complimented with kisses. Not some crippling ugly mark that would show unless she wore pants all the time.

Mal'jin made a noise in his throat when he saw it, before getting more bandages out of his pack. "Shouldn't have made ya walk, elfy. Didn't realize ya was tore up that bad." He said in Zandali. He'd been so preoccupied with his brother, and then arguing with Zentabra he'd not really looked closely at the elf's injuries. He thought she would have said something if she was hurting too badly to keep up. _Would you have? If you were in the presence of people ya thought were enemies? Would ya have even bothered opening your mouth?_ He shook his head, and muttered, "I ain't the right one for this. I ain't smart enough ta do the right thing."

"What troll say?" Daryana asked. The buzzy feeling was definitely stronger, and the pain was going away. In fact, she was starting to feel warm. Almost feverish. Tears started dribbling down her cheeks. _~I'm probably dying of infection.~_  
"Mal'jin fix hurt better in troll home." He folded the bandages into a pad and pressed it against the gash. "Elf hold."  
Daryana reached down to hold it in place as instructed, the other hand clutching the cloak across her chest. _~This is so not how any of this was supposed to go.~_ She thought muzzily, blowing her nose into the wad of the cloak in her hand. She definitely felt hot and dizzy. The troll carefully lifted her leg to slide another strip of fabric underneath, before bringing it up to knot around the pad, holding it in place. She made a loud noise of protest when he pulled the knot tight, and lifted the handful of cloak again to mop at the tears, blood, and snot on her face.  
Mal'jin was trying very hard to concentrate on the bandaging. The smell of blood was thick in the air, and every time the elf blew her nose the cloak lifted enough to show him her breasts in what he was sure was not an intentional gesture. From neck to knee, she looked enough like a troll that he definitely noticed every time the cloak moved. His hand lingered on her thigh, fingertips sliding along the skin over the bandage to touch her hipbone. Her skin was cooler and softer than a jungle troll's, he noticed, as the blood started pounding faster in his veins.  
He jerked his hand back quickly. The elf blew her nose again. He groaned, before asking through gritted teeth, "Elf stand up?"

Daryana shook her head. "Elf broke."

"Elf not broke." He said firmly. Granted, she probably couldn't walk, with that bad a sprain, but the bone hadn't seemed broken. If she could stand up though, it'd make it easier.

"Elf broke. Elf going to die, trolls going to eat." She said disconsolately, as the pathos of her situation bore in on her with full dramatic colors, aided by the rum in the jar. No one would ever know she had found a new race of druids. None of her classmates would ever know how brave she'd been, how she'd finally managed to turn into a bear and defeat a horrendous enemy. She burst into violent tears, imagining the curiosity around her disappearance, and then the eventual lack of interest as she would fade away from her people's memory, not even close enough to home to become one of the wisps that tended the trees. No one would even know how she'd changed. They would always remember her as Elune's mistake.

"Trolls not eat dead elf!" said Mal'jin with utter horror. Is that what she thought they were going to do? "Trolls not eat dead!" He said again with emphasis.  
"Trolls eat LIVE elf?" She cried even harder.  
"No! Trolls not eat elf! Elf taste bad!" He said, utterly confused at the elf's sudden flood of tears. She hadn't cried when she'd killed Zinta, or even when he was bandaging her wounds.  
"So trolls DO eat elf! Know elf taste bad!" She pointed out sharply, in between blowing her nose on the cloak again. She leaned forward to jab a finger in his chest. "Ha! Trolls eat elf!" She dropped a corner of the cloak as she wobbled forward.  
"No! Trolls never eat elf! Eat flesh bad!" He reached up to grab her shoulders, as she looked like she was going to fall.  
"Ha!" She said again, before yelping as his hand touched the bites on her shoulders. He removed his hands quickly when she yelled. She fell forward.  
"Elf having bad _balashin'do _day." She said pitifully into his crotch.  
"Troll day not good either, elf."  
Silence was his only answer. He carefully tried to pry the elf out of his lap, only to find out she'd passed out. He sighed. "Great spirits, I know ya be wantin' us ta repent and atone, but was anything I did really that bad ta deserve this?" It was mostly a rhetorical question, as he started rewrapping the elf in Zentabra's cloak. If his hands strayed across her breasts more than strictly necessary, he managed to tell himself he was just checking for a pulse. When he had her wrapped up tightly in the cloak, he carefully slung her over his shoulder, and started heading back towards the village.

* * * * * *

By the time they'd gotten back to the village, she'd thrown up down his back. Twice. He stomped into his cabin, and unslung the bundle of elf off his shoulder. Her hair stood straight up in front where some of her vomit had caught in the long strands and dried. He carefully set her in a chair facing the door and put her head on the table next to it.

"Stay elf."

A mumbled incoherency was the only answer he got. He peered at her closely. She seemed stable enough that he could try and change clothes without her falling over, though she hadn't woken up yet. Having vomit squelching down his pants was a sensation he was eager to get rid of.

He quickly stripped off his clothes, balling them up tightly and kicking them into a corner. He grabbed the sponge, soap and the wash bucket in the corner. Someone had kindly left him two buckets of water near the fire, probably on Zentabra's orders. He intended just to take a quick bath and get dressed again before the elf woke up, but the chance to do something normal after the day that still didn't seem real filled his mind with a comforting haze that had nothing to do with elves or Zinta, or anything bad at all, and he forgot all about hurrying. The wash bucket wasn't a real tub in the sense of the thing, more a wide shallow bucket that came up to his knees, but the warm water and the clean smell of the soap was enough. He scrubbed the blood off his hands and arms, not thinking about the fact that some of it belonged to his brother. He washed the stickiness off his back, and legs. Then he carefully washed each and every inch, savoring the respite from the horrors of before. He picked up the soap, and started washing his hair, turning it into a blue frothy cap.

Daryana blinked groggily at the splashing noises. Everything still hurt, including her head now. It was dark in the hut, and things were a little blurry until she blinked a few times. She shifted carefully in the chair, hissing softly at the pain in her leg as she moved. She turned her head to where the splashing was coming from, and saw a very naked troll taking a bath. He had his eyes tightly shut as he lathered up his hair. She recognized Mal'jin after a moment of careful scrutiny with relief before curiosity drew her gaze downwards.

_~It's not very nice to ogle him when he doesn't know you're looking.~_ Chided her brain with a reminder that she'd been furious when she thought he'd done the same thing. She ignored it as she took in his shape, the muscles bulging excessively across his shoulders and arms, and in his legs. Her mouth went dry as her gaze zeroed in on his genitals. She hadn't had much opportunity to judge in person, but he looked different from the night elf pictures in the comparative anatomy and sexual education class they all had to take. For one thing, his dick seemed larger, even as it hung down between his legs. She knew penises appeared smaller when un-aroused, and grew larger when excited_. Expansion rate of up to 200% according to the sexual education book_ whispered her old self helpfully. He'd look ridiculous with something that big though. Maybe all the whispers about trolls being randy was just because of an excess of penis.

_~I suppose it could make sense, he's taller than most night elf men.~_ Her eyes narrowed as she inspected his balls, which seemed to hang lower and looser than the night elves. The troll turned around, and her lips twisted into an impatient grimace at having her ogling interrupted. The look faded when she saw the mass of scars across his back and legs. He looked like someone had regularly and consistently beaten the ever-loving hell out of him. She glanced down at her leg. Suddenly the scar she expected didn't seem nearly so bad. It was supposed to be hard to scar a troll due to their regenerative capabilities. (Though the book had used the words "permanently wound and/or kill" instead of scar.)

Mal'jin kept his eyes shut because of the soap in his hair. He'd leave it in for a bit to make sure to kill the sand fleas that plagued the island. In the meantime, he felt fairly relaxed, and he reached down to rearrange himself, as he sat down on the edge of the tub.

Daryana clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the squeak when he reached down to adjust his dick unselfconsciously.

The troll made a "pbbt" noise with his lips, as he shifted his junk again. He was clean, and comfortable, and he'd had a very, very long day. He cocked an ear, but didn't hear anything except the elf's breathing, and he'd locked the door when he'd come in. She had to be still unconscious, or he was certain she'd scream because he was naked. He probably had a few minutes. Thoughts of the elf brought certain other thoughts to the forefront. Like seeing her breasts peeking out from under the cloak, and how much he'd enjoyed licking them. His dick sprang to attention.

Daryana stared in fascination. It didn't seem to get much bigger, it just got harder. Well, that _would be more comfort _… made more sense. Otherwise he'd be hitting himself in the chest, and that'd just be _painful _…WEIRD. She could feel her cheeks burning though, and other sensations stirring, even as her brain very consciously made scientific-sounding observations to avoid the fact that there were a lot more uncomfortable thoughts hiding behind it.

The primitive side of Mal'jin's nature surged as he slowly started stroking himself, bringing to mind the sounds she'd made as he'd licked her nipples, the sight of her sprawled against the tree. He remembered the way she'd tasted when he'd licked her slit, the way she'd moaned when his tongue had pressed into the folds to the damp center that had tasted of sex.

_Been too long since ya gone ruttin'._ He had tried to restrain himself because of Zinta's problems. His brother had been insanely jealous, and Mal'jin had pretended that he had the same trouble getting women to be interested, in order to make it easier for Zinta. He tried to think about some of the troll women in the village instead, but his brain kept shifting back to the elf, squirming against the tree. The fantasy was disturbingly clear in his mind's eye. This time, the elf was smiling, moaning her encouragement, reaching for him, arching her back up to offer her breasts to be licked.

He made a low growling noise in his throat that sounded oddly like a purr. Daryana sat bolt upright, but she didn't make a sound, though the chair squeaked for a moment. Mal'jin didn't notice, as his hand moved faster. When his orgasm hit, splashing into the tub, he sighed in relief. He picked up the second bucket, and stood up, dumping it over his head to rinse the soap out.

When he opened his eyes, sputtering from the water, the first thing he saw was a pair of glowing blue eyes staring straight at him. He promptly panicked, and the bucket in his hand swung down to his crotch to try and cover it. Unfortunately he swung a little too hard.

Daryana stared as the troll went cross-eyed for a moment, fell backwards out of the tub, and lay on the floor whimpering through gritted teeth. She got up carefully, and took a few painful steps over to peer at him. "Mal'jin hurt?"

Mal'jin groaned, "Mal'jin hurt small Mal'jin." He noticed the elf's gaze moving down towards his injured area, and promptly covered himself with his hands.

"Elf stop looking!" His cheeks were dark purple with a blush, and Daryana started laughing. She couldn't help herself. The tension of the previous few minutes boiled up and out, and she couldn't seem to stop.

"Elf stop laughing too!" He growled, even as he dragged himself up to his feet, and went to get his towel, wrapping it around his waist. He hoped she hadn't seen him jerking off, but something about the way she was laughing made him almost certain she had.

Daryana managed to get control of herself, though giggles kept sneaking out every so often. "Elf sorry." She said with a complete lack of sincerity. "Elf sure small Mal'jin fine." She started giggling again.

The troll stomped over to the chest he kept his clean clothes in, and grabbed a pair of pants. He yanked them on under the towel and then used the towel to dry his hair viciously. What was so funny anyways? Did she think small Mal'jin was really small? He wasn't sure what night elves packed in those funny loose pants they wore, but they weren't much shorter than trolls.

"Troll go get water for elf bath. Wash hurt." He paused. "TROLL won't watch Elf." He accused.

"Elf not say troll lose skins, take bath. Elf not look!" She protested. It's not like she'd told him to take all his clothes off in front of her and take a bath after all.

"Elf looked!" He said again, heatedly.

"Troll knew elf here. Troll stupid!" She said, cheeks flaming because she HAD looked. She could have turned around, and not been staring at him.

He started to reply and then stopped, because she had a point. "Elf looked. Elf not HAVE to look." He muttered.

Daryana limped to the other side of the hut. "Troll there, elf look. Troll stupid." She retorted.

"Troll wouldn't look!" He insisted, turning around as he dropped the towel around his shoulders. His jaw dropped. The elf had opened the cloak completely. The cloak closed before his brain managed to click back on.

"Troll looked." Said Daryana smugly. His stunned reaction had been gratifying in a strangely exhilarating way, even as her old self was screaming _~oh my goddess you did NOT just totally flash a TROLL!~ _in shock in the back of her brain. She felt a little delirious, surprised at herself for going with the impulse when she'd always made a point out of being a "good girl". As if it would make up for being a lousy druid, she had always been prompt, well-behaved, hard-working, and reliable. It hadn't been enough to make up for the things she'd lacked though. It hadn't been enough to make her feel better about being assigned permanent library assistant duty rather than going out into the world to defend nature, and protect others. It hadn't made the kind but condescending "Just give it time" advice from the older druids who all believed she was a dud any easier to bear. But she'd killed someone today, and now she was flashing a troll, and her world was so far off the rails that a little insanity seemed more appropriate.

Mal'jin rubbed his face with both hands. The elf was trying to make him crazy. He was almost sure of it. "Yes, troll looked. Troll elf even. Mal'jin get water."

With that, he slung both buckets over one arm, and then picked up the full wash tub with both hands, and practically ran from the hut, with only a brief "Elf stay here!" flung over his shoulder.


	6. Chapter 6

Daryana limped back over to the chair, and moved it to where she could put her sore ankle up on the table. She wasn't sure what to think now about anything. On one hand Mal'jin seemed to take care of her. He'd bandaged her injuries, and apologized for when she was caught in the snare. She'd killed one of his fellow trolls, though in self-defense. He'd cried over the troll's body, so he obviously had reason to be upset with her, yet he seemed to almost be afraid of her. Would the other trolls be more upset? Zentabra had seemed straightforward. She'd looked Daryana in the eye when they'd spoken, acknowledging her existence as a sentient being, and she hadn't looked hostile. Mal'jin said Zentabra had promised her safety. He'd even added his own guarantee of her safety, though what reason did she have to trust him either?

She glared at her ankle, crossing her arms over her chest. She could clearly remember how carefully he'd wrapped it, trying not to hurt her, and how gentle he'd been with the bandages, and she resented it. It'd be much, much easier to hate him if he'd just properly misunderstood the situation and treated her badly because of it. Especially given the other thing too. She was almost positive she was right about it. Which made the whole mess completely insane. How was she supposed to forgive what seemed utterly illogical? "Understanding leads to forgiveness. Forgiveness leads to peace. Peace leads to understanding." She muttered. The mantra of the Cenarion Circle. "But I don't understand at ALL."

"So think about this logically." She told herself. "You have some facts. You don't have all the facts. So build a theory to fit what facts you have, and then hopefully you'll know what the hell is going on."

She held up one finger. "Fact: The trolls here have druids among them. At least one has demonstrated the ability to shift into an animal form. Corollary: Druidism is completely unknown among the troll races, though theories regarding animalistic-based shamanism have been published."

She frowned and held up a second finger. "Fact: A troll in tiger form attempted to chase me off the island on my first day, and stole my stuff. It could have been acting independently. If so, it is remotely possible that none of the other trolls know about that incident."

She took a deep breath. "Fact: Second day here, a troll in tiger form raped me. For what purpose I don't know, though it appeared identical to the first troll-in-tiger-form I encountered in coloring. This could have been an escalation in order to make me leave, or another independent act." She squirmed in her chair. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or not that her assailant was at least humanoid by nature, even if they hadn't been in shape. They had to have been aware of the additional cruelty of the bestial nature of the assault, of the degradation of it. She paused. "Wait. No, I don't know that that is abnormal for their culture. Trolls are considered a primitive culture and may have different standards." Her voice was hard, as she tried to get the justification out and into the air, where maybe Elune would understand she was trying.

"Fact: Mal'jin came to my island after I was assaulted. Why? To make me leave, or to see how badly I was injured? He did provide a leather skin and show me where fresh water was, both of which were survival needs. At that point, they didn't mind my knowing trolls were here, though given I'm in Durotar, trolls aren't surprising. Was that the gamble? I would assume that a strange troll was not related to the tiger-form trolls? I did assume they were separate, so that was a logical gamble."

"Fact: This morning, a troll in troll form expressed intention to assault me, though not initially with violent action. In fact, he seemed to think I'd respond. Why? Why would he expect that?" Her jaw clenched. "Mental retardation maybe? His coloring after his transformation was very similar to the tiger who assaulted me." _I'm really trying Elune, but you are SO not helping me here. Why can't you just explain to me what's going on?_ She thought bitterly.

"Fact: The trolls should have responded with violence when they realized I had ... had killed one of their own. They did not. Nor were they surprised to see an elf there. So more than one troll knew I was here at that point. They insisted on bringing me back to the village at that point, and have entrusted me to Mal'jin's care. This goes against the lone tiger theory."

She scratched her nose, as she stared at the blank wall, as if willing an explanation to appear. "They could have killed me, so they don't want to kill me, despite the standard motives of revenge, punishment, or retribution. They were content to hide from me until I killed the troll." She paused, and then her eyes went wide. "And had seen it shift forms! That's it! The trolls were hiding because they didn't want anyone to find out they were druids! Once I'd seen one transform, they had no reason to hide!"

The sudden surge of confidence was familiar, the way she felt when she'd figured out a difficult problem in class, or had correctly guessed the answer to a riddle. "Which fits the first two facts. A troll was trying to chase me off the island, in tiger form at first so I wouldn't tell anyone that trolls lived here! Which means that no one outside knows that the troll druids live here!" The implications of that were sobering.

She continued on remorselessly, trying to ignore the fact she was discussing her own life and its likelihood of continuing. "Which doesn't explain why they're so reluctant to kill me. If the problem is one of secrecy, then they should have eliminated me. The troll could have that first day. I was too afraid to defend myself. I'd panicked, and I would have been easy prey." She circled around that question several times, but no explanation offered itself. "It just doesn't make sense. Why did the trolls let me live, even when I had killed one of their own? Any race would have considered that murder, especially since none of them asked me why. Did they assume that the troll attacked me? Why would they give me the benefit of the doubt?"

The door opened, and Mal'jin came in, carrying the tub with the two pails of water set inside it. He glanced sideways at the elf as he carefully set it down near the fire. She seemed thoughtful, and that worried Mal'jin. Her next question confirmed his worry.

"Mal'jin, who troll I kill?" She asked.

She was watching his face closely and wasn't surprised to see it twist with grief. "Troll name Zinta." He said quietly, then unable to help himself, he added, "Zinta my _jin'sani_."

"What jinsanyee mean?"

He made a pantomime of cradling a baby, then held up two fingers. "Mal'jin one. Zinta two. Jin'sani. Same time." He then turned his back. Deep down, the savage part of him wanted to get mad at the elf, to yell at her, fight with her for killing his brother, for ruining all the work they'd done to try and redeem their souls in the eyes of the spirits. But his own guilt held him back. He felt like his assault on the elf had led to the elf killing his brother. If he hadn't told Zinta what happened, if he hadn't left the elf unguarded, if he hadn't hurt her in the first place. If, if, if. He knew it technically wasn't her fault, but he had no one else to blame but himself, and it would be so much easier to be mad at the elf.

_Great. You killed his twin brother. You killed the brother of the troll that's apparently responsible for your well-being! _ "Elf sorry. Zinta attacked Daryana. Daryana not want hurt."

He ran a hand through his hair in agitation at her words, and dumped one of the buckets of water in the tub. "Elf bath ready." He wasn't sure he could take her apology yet. Not while Zinta's body was laying on the altar while the village prayed for him, and not while his own guilt squatted between them. Maybe the spirits would speak to him tonight, explain what they intended. Maybe they'd forgive Zinta. Then it'd be ok.

She recognized the blunt change of subject for what it was, and sighed. "Mal'jin, what trolls want with elf?"

"Teach elf speak Troll. Then can talk. Mal'jin, Leebo, Zanza will teach elf _Zandali, _troll speak."

He said after a moment's thought. That was the safe answer, and it wouldn't hurt to get her used to the idea.

"What Mal'jin want with elf?" She asked. He started at the question, and turned around to stare at her. She couldn't know what he'd been thinking earlier, right? He whipped back around quickly, cheeks going dark purple.

"Mal'jin don't want anything with elf. Elf stay here with Mal'jin. Safe."

"Mal'jin want elf hurt?" She asked, even as she carefully lifted her ankle off the table, and stood up to hop/limp over to the tub.

He didn't look up at her. "Mal'jin not want elf hurt." He said tiredly. "Mal'jin not want Zinta dead. Not matter what Mal'jin want."

The elf tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked up at her. She had an expression of frustration on her face. "No. Mal'jin sorry elf hurt?" She said with peculiar insistence.

He rubbed his hand over his face again, before saying roughly, "Yes. Mal'jin sorry elf hurt." His anger rose up again, wondering why the hell he had to apologize for the injuries his brother had inflicted when Zinta was dead. Surely she'd done more than he had. He stomped it down again with a couple deep breaths. She apologized already, he told himself, even as his stomach clenched against accepting it.

The elf seemed to consider that for a few moments, before nodding. "Elf need skin after bath."

Mal'jin blinked in confusion. He'd been there for the conversation but he wasn't sure what happened. The elf had gone from questions to accepting the situation far more easily than he or Zentabra had expected. Granted the issue of her not going anywhere hadn't come up, but the expression on the elf's face made him wonder what she thought or even what she knew. "Ok. Mal'jin get skins." And maybe go ask Zentabra if the conversation made any more sense to her.

Zentabra had been less inclined to question it. "She injured and tired Mal'jin. What good it do her to make a fuss now? If she smart, she'll wait until she's better before she tries to push the issue. She's young, and she wasn't prepared well for her trip. As long as we don't do nothin' ta scare her, she's got no real reason to run 'till she's better."

Mal'jin had nodded, though deep down he suspected that the answer was more complex than that. "I guess." He muttered.

Zentabra looked at him, hesitating for a moment before she said, "I can feel the anger in ya, Mal'jin. Ya ok?"

"No. No I ain't ok! Zinta's dead, Zentabra. He's dead, and the one who killed him is livin' under mah roof, and it's my fault he's dead!" Mal'jin pressed both hands to his head. His head ached, and thinking was painful. His skin felt like it was creeping over his bones, and he shook his head as if to dislodge the dull throb behind his eyes.

Zentabra frowned deeply. Mal'jin was breathing harder than usual, and his veins were standing out in places. Mal'jin hadn't fallen prey to the Zalazane madness for months, but the stress he was under had been taking its toll for days. The venom in their veins was always waiting for a moment of weakness to try and regain its hold, even despite its evil creator being dead. "Ya don't look so good Mal'jin. Maybe ya need ta go take some meditation time."

"Nah. I be fine." He almost snarled. "I gotta pray for Zinta tonight. Maybe the spirits listen ta me. And the elf needs clothes, 'cause she naked under ya cloak and takin' a bath right now." His fingers opened and clenched convulsively into fists several times. Small muscles twitched in his shoulders.

"We all be prayin' for Zinta tonight, Mal'jin. Ya gotta be strong, no matter what the spirits decide. Ya gotta be calm, an' remember, it ain't your fault, what happened. Ya done the best ya could ta be obedient ta the spirits. That's the big thing. What happened only the spirits know why." Zentabra said, shifting around a little closer to the door.

"Yeah.. Yeah.. Gotta be strong," mumbled Mal'jin. He stood up, and headed towards the door. "Gotta get clothes. Then I can go pray for Zinta. Then .. .Then it'll be all right."

"And eat somethin'!" called Zentabra as he loped away towards the clotheslines. She waited until he was out of earshot before whistling. Two of the village guards showed up quickly. "Tell yon guard ta be ready with the nets. Mal'jin ain't doin' so good with his brother's death."

The guard nodded. "They jin'sani. 'Course he ain't doin' well, with the elf right there." There was a hint of criticism in her voice, as she looked at Zentabra.

"Don't give me ya lip, Zanza. I didn' have no choice. The spirits say it gotta be this way." And that was a conversation she hoped she wouldn't ever have to have with Mal'jin. The spirits had been very clear that Mal'jin was to care for the elf, whether it broke him or not. Right now, she wasn't so sure that it wouldn't, and she was angry with the spirits on his behalf. Why should they put such a burden on someone who was working so hard to please them?

Zanza nodded, "Sorry Zentabra. I'll let the others know."

Mal'jin grabbed a clean tunic off the line, and a pair of linen pants, before heading back to the cabin. He felt a little feverish, but there was just too much to do to waste time meditating in the cave. Maybe he could go see if there were more bones at that spot he'd found that morning. Maybe the spirits would look more kindly on Zinta if Mal'jin made a special effort to please them today. With those thoughts swirling around his head, he went right into his house without knocking. He'd only taken a few steps inside before he stopped dead.

The elf was sitting in front of his fireplace, braiding her hair over one shoulder. The only thing she appeared to be wearing was his damp towel wrapped around her hips, displaying a full expanse of spine. He could see the raw bite marks on her shoulders, and the claw marks along her sides.

A sudden surge of possessive lust burned its way through his veins and straight to his brain where it turned all higher thoughts to ash. He wanted to cover the marks of another male with his own. He wanted to bury himself in her until his fury was sated, to feast on her with tongue and teeth, to drive into her over and over until he'd screamed his throat raw with satisfaction. He took a step towards her, his brain on fire, a low feral growl of anticipation escaping him.

Daryana turned to look over her shoulder as the door opened. Once she saw it was Mal'jin, she'd relaxed, but then the way he'd frozen, and stood there, twitching all over as he stared at her, made her tense again. There was something wrong in his facial expression. Before he seemed to try not to look at her, with a strange mixture of fear and sorrow on his face when he had. Now he was staring directly at her in a way that sent her heart beating faster and adrenaline coursing through her veins. And he was breathing hard. Even after the long swim that had winded her, or after carrying her through the jungle, his breathing hadn't been labored like it was now.

"Troll get skins?" She asked cautiously as she carefully stood up, wobbling a little on her bad leg. It hadn't seemed important to try and cover up again in the cloak which _someone_ had thrown up on, given that he'd definitely seen the bits that were exposed before, and she'd enjoyed being clean for a change. Now, the expression on his face as his eyes, red and glowing focused directly on her breasts and locked there made her regret that decision. ~_What, my super secret druid power is being irresistible to trolls? ~ _her old self muttered in the back of her brain.

When he growled, her expression hardened, and she leaned over to pick up the second bucket of water she hadn't used. "Mal'jin. You hear elf?" She really didn't want to hurt him, but he was acting crazy, like Felwood crazy. He kept coming towards her as his hands reached out towards her, the fingers shaking. "Elf warn troll. Last time!"

Mal'jin snarled, "_Bena ri'do machata hori."_ in that odd purring growl, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She didn't back up, even as she could feel the trembling in her legs from the anticipation, the desire to flee. Instead her lips curled into an unfamiliar snarl, and she swung the bucket up, sending three gallons of water directly into his face.

Mal'jin staggered backwards, the water blasting up his nostrils, choking him. The cold water shocked the fever out of his brain, and he swiped at his face with both hands, sputtering. A second later the wooden bucket landed against the side of his head, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

"Bad troll! Bad!" yelled Daryana.

Mal'jin sat up, dizzily. The madness faded under the double shock of pain and surprise, as he tried to figure out why the elf was yelling at him, the past few moments of memory muzzy and confused under the slowly retreating haze. Also, his head now REALLY hurt.

"Why elf yelling?" he asked, as he reached up to feel if a tusk was loose.

"Mal'jin bad troll! Act crazy! Like want hurt elf." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, bucket still held tightly in one hand in case he needed belting again.

"Mal'jin not want hurt elf!" he protested, though as memory slowly started sneaking back into focus, his face changed.

Daryana watched in bewilderment as Mal'jin's face went from clueless to horrified, to horribly embarrassed. He buried his face in his hands, mumbling in his own language, shaking his head back and forth.

"Trolls go crazy often?" Daryana asked irritably. It seemed like one of those things that would have been good to know before they locked her in with one.

Mal'jin let his hands drop into his lap, a bleak despair on his face. "Sometimes. Not often. Trolls try… trolls try very much not go crazy. Bad time." His face twisted, and even though he stared hard at the wall trying not to blink, tears still ran out of the corners of his eyes. _The spirits never gonna forgive Zinta when I was about to do the same thing_. _They don't want the elf hurt, and I lost control._ If the elf had killed him too in response, would the spirits have forgiven him? Would he have DESERVED forgiveness?

Daryana stared at the tears running down his face, something inside her reluctantly wincing in sympathy at the desperate unhappiness on his face. Her books had stated that trolls were volatile, but unsophisticated and without emotional depth. The sadness on Mal'jin's face drew deep grooves that had been worn in by emotions that cut to the bone. Whatever he was feeling, it was far from a surface emotion, and the play of internal anger, despair, and sadness warred in a complex tangle on his face. _Ok, let's be fair. His twin brother died today. You did it, and yet he's still stuck with you. Trolls are known for their berserker rages, and severe emotional upset can trigger temporary insanity. Surely the death of a brother, especially a retarded idiot brother would qualify. C'mon, say something. Anything. This is REALLY awkward. _She thought.

She glanced around, and saw the bundle of clothes that he'd dropped when he came in. "Mal'jin, give elf skins? Elf sorry make troll crazy." She tried. Oh that sounded nice and ego-tastic, like she thought her nakedness drove trolls nuts. For all she knew it was just the sight of her, knowing she killed his brother.

Mal'jin blinked, and swiped at his eyes with a forearm. "Skins? Oh." He handed her the clothing he'd brought. He didn't look at her, his mortification complete at the fact she knew that her nakedness affected him. So much for trying to be polite. He must have been horribly obvious. Was she disgusted, horrified by the idea of being lusted after by a troll? It's not like she'd had good experiences with it so far, between him and Zinta. He buried his face in his hands again, mumbling prayers to the spirits to forgive him for losing control, while the elf got dressed.

He jumped when her hand patted him gingerly on the shoulder. "It ok, Mal'jin. Elf not mad. Mal'jin not hurt elf, so it ok. Ok?"

He scrambled to his feet, wobbling for a second. "Mal'jin sorry for crazy. Mal'jin need go get things for Zinta. Zanza speak Common if elf need." He stammered. The cabin felt far too small all of a sudden, and he plowed out the door so quickly that one of the hinges tore out of the doorpost.

_Well. That went well. This ambassador to a new group of druids idea is just going swimmingly, _muttered her old self in the back of her brain. "At least we didn't get raped again. That's progress." She muttered in response. _So far, _the inner voice retorted. "And we have clothes again. That should keep the rape attempts down. So shut up."

She was rewrapping the gash on her thigh with the stash of bandages she found in his chest when a female troll with a bright pink mohawk poked her head in. "Elf?" Zanza asked cautiously.

"Hello troll." Said Daryana. "Elf name Daryana."

"Troll name Zanza. Mal'jin leave village fast. Zentabra say ask Elf or Mal'jin eat?"

"No. Mal'jin sad for crazy, leave fast. Daryana want food please."

Zanza stared at her for a moment trying to puzzle out what the first part meant before deciding to just go with the part she understood. "Ok. Elf come, give food." She watched as the elf knotted the bandage, let the loose pants leg fall back down, and pushed herself upright using the table, before asking, "Elf ok walk?"

"Yes." Even if it damn well killed her. Her leg was throbbing after the thorough cleaning she'd given the gash, and her ankle felt like it was on fire, but she'd be damned if she showed weakness in front of another troll. She grimly realized that part of her safety lay firmly in the fact that she was an unknown. She'd killed one of their own and if her other guess was right, they weren't familiar with the uses of nature magic. They didn't know what she was capable of, and secretly, she was rather enjoying being around people who didn't know how very little that actually was.

She followed Zanza out of the hut and into the village square proper. She stared in open curiosity at the village around her. Most of the books reported troll villages as slovenly primitive things, with rude huts built of wood and grass, and trash scattered about, with lots of fighting and drunken, disorderly behavior. While the huts were made of some sort of giant reed, with grass roofs, they were sturdily built, and any possessions were neatly arranged inside them. The villagers were all busy in some sort of task or another, with an orderliness that made a mockery of the elven tomes' derogatory pedantry. She paused to watch three trolls stretching hides on various-sized frames, one of which was singing cheerfully, with the other two joining in on what appeared to be the chorus. One of them was missing an eye and was sporting a jaunty red eye-patch. Another one was missing an arm, but he was working so quickly and evenly with the skinning knife that it was hard to see if his infirmity slowed him down.

She caught sight of a few other trolls stripped to the waist who were engaged in some furious laundry, and her eyes narrowed. They were all as badly scarred or worse than Mal'jin was. She stopped, and turned to scrutinize her escort who was patiently waiting for the elf to catch up.

"Zanza, why trolls all hurt?"

"What elf mean?"

Daryana pointed to a very visible scar on Zanza's shoulder that ran down to her wrist. "Old hurt. All trolls many old hurts. Why?"

Daryana was surprised by the angry expression that crossed Zanza's face. "Zalazane." Zanza spit into the dirt at her feet after saying the name. "Zalazane very bad _voodoun_ troll. Hurt all trolls long, long time. Zalazane dead. Hurts stay."

Daryana blinked. "Zalazane hurt Mal'jin?"

Zanza nodded. "Yes. Zalazane hurt all trolls, Mal'jin troll. Very bad. Elf want food?"

Daryana blew air out between her lips in frustration, making a rude noise. She was getting a little tired of the trolls' habit of abrupt changes of subject. "Yes, elf want food."

Zanza nodded and loped over to the large cauldron bubbling in the center of the village. A stack of bowls sat next to it. She grabbed one, and filled it up, before bringing it back to the elf.

Daryana stared at it. It looked like river mud, with thick white and purple chunks floating in it. With some vague greenish things that she really hoped were herbs. "What is it?"

"_Dan'dali_." Zanza shrugged.

_That was helpful._ Daryana sniffed at it. A bubble rose to the surface and glooped at her cheerfully. A rich spicy smell rose up, and her stomach growled. Zanza cackled cheerfully.

"Elf DOES want food!"

Daryana tried to look dignified, shrugging a shoulder in response, though a reluctant smile crossed her face in natural response to Zanza's laughter. She picked one of the white chunks out of the stew, and popped it quickly into her mouth before it burned her fingers. It tasted like some sort of fish, and it was delicious.

"Zanza not eat?" Daryana asked, after swallowing, and plucking out another chunk.

"Zanza eat after _vuj'ando._"

"What?"

Zanza frowned with concentration, saying carefully, "Zinta dead. Spirits want _vuj'ando_. Maybe Zinta live. Maybe Zinta dead-dead. _Vuj'ando_ say."

Daryana blinked. The spirit healers determined who came back and who didn't. Perhaps it was different for the trolls. Whatever the Vuj'ando was, it sounded like some sort of funeral rite where the spirits of the trolls determined who returned from the dead. She hadn't realized that Mal'jin's brother was possibly permanently dead. No wonder he was so upset.

"Trolls mad at elf for Zinta?" she asked, curious as to what Zanza would say.

Zanza was quiet for a few moments before saying, "Trolls know Zinta. Zinta crazy many time, hurt many. Zinta troll, elf not troll." She shrugged a shoulder. "Zinta dead. Hurt elf not help Zinta. We see when elf talk Zandali.

Some mad. Some sad."

_Well, that was honest. _Daryana frowned. "Crazy many time?"

Zanza sighed. "Zalazane hurt here." She tapped her skull, and made a twisting motion with her hands. "Zalazane say, trolls do. Trolls bad crazy long time. Sometimes, crazy come back, troll hurt, troll mad, troll sad. Trolls try very hard fight crazy. Sometimes lose. Very bad."

Daryana took a gulp of the soup now that it had cooled a bit. "Mal'jin go crazy." She held her fingers close together. "Little. Give _bala_, crazy go, Mal'jin come back. Mal'jin sorry and sad for crazy before go leave village fast." She paused, before asking with as casual a manner as she could manage. "Mal'jin be ok?" She could still see the despair on his face with a painful clarity that surprised her.

Zanza pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering a curse under her breath. No wonder Mal'jin had fled the village. If the elf was right and he had lost his senses for a little bit, he'd be feeling horrible. It must not have been too bad though, if he'd recovered before he'd hurt anyone.

"Maybe. Zanza go find Mal'jin after put elf home." She gestured towards Mal'jin's hut. "Elf stay. Rest. Elf hurt."

Daryana was in no mood to argue. The brief walk had been exhausting and while she'd tried to compensate for the limp, the pain had gotten to the point where she could feel the muscles quivering in protest with every step. "Ok. Thank you Zanza for _dan'dali._"

Zanza nodded, "Elf welcome." Zanza watched as the elf limped back into Mal'jin's hut, and shut the door, frowning thoughtfully. That had not been what she'd been expecting.


	7. Chapter 7

Zanza eventually found Mal'jin digging furiously, four small bones laid out carefully on the grass next to the pit he was excavating. The hole was already four feet deep, and dirt was still flying.

"Ya gonna dig all the way to the underworld, or ya making a pit trap for a dragon?" Zanza asked, squatting on the edge of the hole. "Usually bones only in the first two feet ya know."

Mal'jin paused in his digging to stare around at the size of the hole in surprise. At first he'd been searching, but then he'd forgotten about looking for bones, and just dug, trying to burn off the excess energy and anger that was foaming through his veins, trying not to think about the elf or Zinta, trying not to worry about the spirits. "Oh. I guess maybe I went a bit overboard."

"Ya think? Zentabra says ta tell ya, you an idiot, because ya didn't eat anything before ya come out here ta do manual labor." Zanza held out a packet of smoked fish wrapped in a big green leaf. "I already fed the elf, so take a break and eat something."

Mal'jin's stomach growled in response. He hauled himself out of the hole and sat on the edge, before he took the packet, and started eating. "Thanks Zanza. Can't believe I left the elf with no food." He muttered indistinctly around a mouthful of fish.

"Mal, maybe ya should quit being so hard on yourself. You've had a bad fuckin' day. Ya just addin' ta the guilt and anger ya feel. It's a good thing ta be sorry, it ain't a good thing ta wallow in it. Zalazane's poison gets us that way too." Zanza said, pointedly. "Ya ain't special, just cursed."

Mal'jin winced. "The elf told ya I … lost control, didn't she."

"Yeah. She also didn't seem to worry about it. She noticed the scars and missing bits, and asked about it. I told her about Zalazane. I bet she understood too. It's not ya fault when it'd be provoking enough having ya brother's killer right there. Ya coulda asked us ta help take care of the elf, give ya time to go meditate and try and relax." Zanza poked him with the blunt end of her spear. "Ya listening?"

"Yeah." Mal'jin was relieved. He had been worried that the elf had mentioned that he'd been lusting after her, but Zanza didn't seem to know the details. He rubbed at his face, leaving a dirt trail behind on the sweaty skin. "Ya right Zanza. I just … I don't think the spirits gonna let Zinta come back, no matter what I do."

"Ya probably right." Zanza said with brutal honesty. "Ya been tryin' ta be responsible for ya brother for years Mal, and ya gotta face the fact that Zinta was responsible for himself. He didn't **like** makin' sacrifices. He didn't like lookin' for the bones of his victims to atone, and he had so much of Zalazane's poison in him, that he was constantly on the verge of explosion."

"It wasn't his fault!" said Mal'jin angrily.

"It wasn't ANY of our faults!" yelled Zanza. "We ALL done evil under Zalazane's power, and the spirits makin' us prove we're worth more than a loa-damned zombie! The spirits makin' us prove we can be better, and they helpin' us. But we all know we gotta help ourselves. And Zinta just wasn't interested!"

"He was trying!" said Mal'jin, a firm belief in his voice that was on shaky foundations. "He was trying." He repeated.

"Not real hard." Said Zanza emphatically. She reached over to pat him gently on the shoulder. "Look, I know he ya jinsani, but ya should be grateful he died before he'd killed somebody. He damn near killed Mani that one time. She was lucky she managed ta get away from him with only a broken arm. The spirits may let him move on ta a good place, even if they don't let him come back, 'cause of the little bits he did manage to do, and 'cause he didn't never kill nobody after Zalazane died, though you an' I both know that's only cause the guards were good at catchin' him before he lost his shit, not cause he was makin' efforts to control himself. He attacked the elf, or she wouldn'a killed him. He coulda had her murder on his head, and the spirits really been pissed then. Ya gotta be grateful for that, Mal'jin."

"I ain't better 'n he is, Zanza. He ain't the one should be dead." mumbled Mal'jin.

Zanza rolled her eyes. "Now ya talkin' stupid again. Zentabra says the vuj'ando is at sunset, and ya should try and rest before it happens. Come back ta the village, eat somethin', take a nap. And try ta make peace with the fact ya brother ain't you, and that ya can't be responsible for no one but ya'self."

Mal'jin shot her a dirty look. "Zentabra said all that?"

Zanza shifted both shoulders, the right one moving stiffly. "I mighta added a few bits. Think about what I said Mal'jin. Also, ya might want ta fill the hole back in if ya done diggin' ta Booty Bay."

Mal'jin glanced at the huge pile of dirt next to him, and then at the size of the hole and sighed. "All right."

"If ya do get back and want a nap, ya can use my cabin. I'm on duty until after the vuj'ando, so won't bother me none." Zanza said, as she stood up, shifting her spear to the other shoulder. She paused and said, "Ya know I only say these things so ya stop hurtin' yaself, not cause I wanna hurt ya, right?"

Mal'jin ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I know."

She watched appreciatively as Mal'jin stood up, and started pushing the dirt back into the hole, admiring the strength of the muscles starkly displayed in his shoulders and arms, as he shoved the mountain of dirt back into the crater he'd made. "All right then. I gonna get back. Snake stew is on the boil if that measly packet of fish ain't enough for ya. Ya elf likes snake stew. She ate a whole bowl."

Mal'jin paused. "A whole bowl? Who made it?"

"I think it's old Giddy's turn ta cook." Said Zanza. "What difference does it make?"

"Giddy what likes ta use dreamer's weed in everything?"

Zanza paused before answering. "Yeah. You think it'll affect the elf?"

Mal'jin shrugged helplessly. "How should I know? I ain't an expert on elves." He sighed. "It probably won't hurt her, right? It ain't poisonous. Maybe she just sleep heavy, which be ok."

Daryana had laid down in the troll's bed as soon as Zanza had shut the door behind her. She was exhausted, and even the fact that the leather straps and hide blankets were far more uncomfortable than the downy softness of the beds she was used to didn't keep her from falling asleep instantly.

She was deep in the middle of an interesting dream about being commended by the Cenarion Circle for discovering a new type of animated book fungus, when the entire picture dissolved, and reformed into a world of greens that reminded her of the Moonglade, only more lush and verdant.

"Well, hurry up!" said an impatient high-pitched voice. Daryana turned around to see what looked like one of the dryad daughters of Cenarius standing there, stomping a cloven foot.

"What? I'm sorry," Daryana stammered, "I didn't know I was late!"

The dryad rolled her eyes, "Really, they just let ANYONE into the dream these days. Come ON!" And she immediately bounded off at a speed that made Daryana scramble to her feet to chase after her.

"Wait! What do you mean into the dream? Where are we going? I'm not a high enough rank to be in THE dream." She called after the dryad.

The dryad ignored her, diving around turns and twists with an agility that only someone with four feet could really manage. Daryana did her best, but the dryad soon had outpaced her and disappeared into the distance, leaving her to stumble blindly along, hoping that she was still going the right way.

"Great. I'm the only druid in the world who could manage to get lost even in a dream." She muttered, as she stopped to lean against a handy rock.

**"IT IS NOT POSSIBLE TO BE LOST HERE. IT IS POSSIBLE TO FORGET WHERE YOU WERE GOING."**The power of the voice echoed, resonating in her very bones. If it was possible to wet your pants in a dream, Daryana would have been horribly embarrassed. As it was, she jumped straight in the air, and spun around.

The handy rock she'd been leaning on stood up, and stretched out a huge pair of wings. Daryana had never seen so majestic and beautiful a sight as the great green dragon that seemed to shimmer in and out of existence in front of her. The dragon yawned, and then seemed to collapse, shifting forms into a very tall, and beautiful night elf clothed in fantastic clothes of a fineness and quality that even the Moon Priestess could covet.

Daryana started shaking as she sank to her knees in obeisance. She wanted to say something but every single sound dried up in her throat. Even she couldn't have dreamed up something like this. She had to be in the **real** Emerald Dream. Facing the Aspect of all Nature. Who was probably quite well aware of what a rotten druid she was. Every failure she'd ever had seemed magnified in the presence of so much majesty, and she was quite certain that Ysera was going to squish her. Only the highest ranked druids were allowed to enter the dream, and she hadn't even been allowed to graduate to full-time basic druid duty.

"**I HAVE BEEN ASKED TO GIVE YOU UNDERSTANDING." **Said Ysera.

Daryana tried to speak, but all that came out was a very tiny, very soft, " 'ms-s-sorry."

Ysera cocked her head to one side. **"FOR WHAT?"**

Daryana mumbled, "for everything." She paused and added, "trespassing."

She wasn't prepared for the Aspect's laughter. **"NO ONE TRESPASSES INTO THE DREAM WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. I BROUGHT YOU HERE SO YOU MAY SEE. TIME IS SHORT, NO MATTER WHAT NOZDORMU SAYS. I MUST WAKE AGAIN. SOON."**

Daryana felt terror spike through her, even above the fear she was already feeling. Ysera only woke when the world itself was in terrible danger of utter destruction. She had been reported to have only opened her eyes twice before, once when the Burning Legion had threatened to overrun Azeroth, and again during the war of the Dragonflights, when Malygos waged war against the other three flights. The druids went into the dream to watch for Ysera's wakening, to be warned against impending catatrosphe.

Ysera didn't seem to notice that Daryana couldn't move or hadn't responded. **"YES. TIME IS SHORT. BE STRONG, DARYANA WHISPERWIND."**

Immediately, the dragon and the verdant scene vanished, and Daryana was falling. She tried to scream, but the blackness whipped her voice away, and she landed with a hard thump in the middle of a clearing. She stood up, to stare into what looked like a scene of madness. She froze in fear, but soon realized that she was still dreaming. The trolls who were moving around her didn't see her, or pay any attention to her. Fires were burning in wide braziers set on pillars of skulls, casting wild and dark shadows that almost seemed alive, and dancing to the beat of drums pounding in the background. The stench of blood was heavy in the air. In the very middle of the clearing was a tall troll wearing a wooden mask carved and painted with the face of a demon. Daryana could feel the evil rolling off of him, as he waved about a tall staff that was glowing as he chanted.

A group of trolls were dancing in a contorted, painful looking way around a cauldron boiling on the fire as they chanted as well, their eyes blank. Others were drumming, on instruments made with blue leather heads and femurs as the sticks. Daryana nearly threw up when she realized one of the drum skins had a tattoo. The leather was tanned troll skin. Another group was kneeling in a half-circle behind the one with the mask, chanting and swaying in unison. A few in armor stood guard around the circle, most of whom were the largest and most muscular ones that she could see. In the same way that she was insubstantial, she could see shadowy demons riding each one of the trolls except the big one in the middle with the mask, controlling them like puppets. The trolls dancing around the cauldron had knives in both hands, and every so often, the demons would cause them to slash at themselves, opening wounds that were bled into the cauldron until the wounds healed. The trolls screamed in pain at each cut, but the knives never hesitated as they bit deep into their flesh.

"That's it my children! Dance for Old Zalazane!" The troll with the mask clapped his hands in glee. "Soon we be ready!"

Daryana slowly moved around the clearing, bile rising in her throat. Daryana recognized one of the dancers as she whirled past, that unmistakable shock of pink hair marking Zanza, though the blank expression on her face was vastly different from the alert and watchful one Daryana knew. Zanza was staggering around in the movements of the dance, too many red lines of recently healed cuts across her body to be counted, her clothing slashed and torn to bloody rags.

Daryana turned away sharply when Zanza stabbed the knife deep into her arm and found herself face to face with Zinta and Mal'jin. She wouldn't have recognized either one of them, except for the twin shocks of blue hair. They were both encased in steel armor, and carrying wicked looking swords with jagged edges, faces painted for war. She hadn't had an opportunity to compare them in size, but now she realized how much more hugely overdeveloped Zinta was than Mal'jin. They both stared right through her, with that odd blank stare.

"Ah, me jinsani! Go and fetch me my new children!" called Zalazane. Mal'jin and Zinta both immediately turned and left the circle. He licked the end of his staff which was dripping with the foul mixtures. "Needs a little somethin'.." He tapped the staff against his mask thoughtfully, before grinning. "Got it!" He looked around the group.

"You! C'mere!" He pointed at one of the drummers randomly. The drummer immediately got up and shambled over obediently.

"Hold out ya arm." The demon on the troll's back lifted his arm, and the troll did likewise.

Daryana stared in horror as the troll held his arm over the cauldron with no hesitation. She recognized him as the skinner who had been singing in the village. Had he made the leather for the drums from the bodies of his fellow trolls? Zalazane picked up a big, wicked knife, and proceeded to saw the arm off at the shoulder. It wasn't a clean cut, but the troll never moved. He never flinched, even as tears ran from those blank staring eyes, and his mouth stayed open in a constant scream of pain. The arm fell into the cauldron with a sickly splash, the sticky mixture of blood and Elune-only-knew-what absorbing it.

"Get back ta drumming." Said Zalazane, not even bothering to look at the troll he'd just maimed. The troll limped back to the drum, and picked up one of the femurs to continue drumming one-handed, with that same blank stare, though tears still ran down his face, and his side was smeared with blood.

Daryana did her best to throw up, but all she could manage was a series of dry heaves in the dream.

Zinta and Mal'jin walked past her, escorting a line of troll children moving behind them with the sluggish movement of slaves. Some of them were crying silently, but unlike the adults, their eyes were still aware and alive, though they were far from the eyes of children. These eyes had seen death, horror, pain, and knew no such thing as joy or play. They had no demons riding on their shoulders.

"No… No you can't do this!" said Daryana, but no one could hear her. "Mal'jin, stop it!" She looked around desperately for any sign that this wasn't really happening, but she knew that this had been real, had been the hell that the trolls suffered. This was the horrible truth that had been succinctly hiding behind Zanza's short "Very bad." description.

Zalazane threw his arms wide. "Welcome mah children! Ya old enough now ta join us, ta undergo the rites of initiation into adulthood! Ta join ya parents and brothers and sisters in Old Zalazane's family!"

Daryana stared at the children. None of them appeared to have gotten to puberty, their tusks barely developed, only one or two of the girls even showing a hint of having started growing breasts or hips. They were all trembling.

"I'm gonna take away ya pain, ya fears! I'm gonna make ya strong!" screamed Zalazane. "Make ya invincible! Like Zinta! Like mah big, beautiful Zinta! Ya think any monster could defeat him?" In the firelight Zinta stepped forward, and flexed when Zalazane gestured at him. Zinta was far more imposing in his armor, with the sword he carried gleaming in the firelight, with a bestial expression that managed to convey past the blankness in his eyes.

Zalazane stirred the cauldron again with his staff, trails of inky blackness marking its passage. He dipped a finger in and licked it clean. "Perfect." He reached down and pulled out what was clearly the top of a skull, dipping it into the mixture.

Zalazane glanced at the row of young ones, and pointed a finger at the tallest of the girls. "You! You can be first! C'mere my pretty!"

Daryana could feel the waves of terror rolling off the girl, and stared in shock as the girl shook her head, too afraid to be able to vocalize her defiance, barely able to maintain standing still, but remain she did.

Zalazane's eyes narrowed to slits. "Whelp, ya better step forward, before ya get a lesson ya won't have a chance ta remember."

The girl stared down at the ground, and mumbled, "No. I'd rather die." Her voice was the barest of whispers but it carried across the clearing. What shook Daryana to the core was that the girl's tone of voice was one of someone who had fully considered both options, and had made the less terrible choice.

A movement caught Daryana's eye, and she noticed one of the women who had been chanting looking up from the supine position they were all in. She recognized Zentabra's face. Zentabra's eyes were as blank as the others, but her mouth was shaking, trembling with the urge to speak, fighting the demon that was riding her. Her hands and shoulders were taut with muscles quivering and fighting against the black spirit that rode on her shoulders. The demon snarled and dug its claws in deeper. Zentabra arched in pain before she dropped back into the supine position.

Daryana looked back at the girl. Her hair and skin were the same color as Zentabra's, and her hair was braided in the same fashion.

Zalazane glared at the girl. "Ya think so? We see about that." The eyes behind the wooden mask glowed red. His head whipped around to glare at the rest of the children. "The rest of ya, ya can wait and watch. Then we see whether ya think death is better than joinin' our happy family."

Daryana shivered. "Come on self. Wake up. I don't want to see this." She mumbled, reaching down to pinch her arm with trembling fingers. She couldn't feel the pinch, but she didn't wake up either.

Zalazane stalked towards the girl, grabbing her chin in one hand, and tilting it up, so he could stare down at her. "Ah. Ya mother, she gave me trouble too. But now look how happy she is!" He roughly twisted the girl's face towards the chanters. Zentabra managed to pick her head up enough that her blank eyes met her daughter's, fighting the demon on her shoulders for every millimeter. Tears were sneaking down Zentabra's cheeks from her unblinking eyes.

The girl stared at her mother's eyes and her spine stiffened, even as her own eyes filled, a mirror of her mother's. "She ain't happy. None of 'em happy. The spirits will care for me, after ya kill me." Her voice was still soft, but there was a core of steel in it. "I believe in the spirits."

Zalazane slapped her hard, sending her falling to the ground hard. Spittle flew through the mouth of the mask as he screamed, "I control the spirits! The spirits give ME power! The only spirits here belong ta me! They ain't gonna save ya girl! All ya gonna get is pain and death when I choose! Ain't no one gonna care for ya! Ain't no one gonna help ya!"

The girl pushed herself upright, to stand upright. Daryana could see the fear and pain in her eyes, even as the girl set her jaw. "I believe in the loa!" She cried out in a trembling voice. "Ya gotta believe too! They set ya free if ya believe!"

Zalazane's staff whistled through the air. The sound of breaking bone could be heard as it connected with the girl's head, sending her flying into the dirt again. "The loa can't help ya! Ain't no one gonna help ya! Zinta! Mal'jin!" Daryana ran over to the girl. Blood was running from the side of her head, where the staff had cracked the delicate bone at the temple. Zinta got to her first, picking up the unconscious girl by her neck. Her body lolled limply from his hand as he waited for further instructions. Daryana beat at him with her ghostly hands, screaming words that had no sound or body in the dream. A feral growl caught her attention, and she turned to see Zentabra standing up shakily, her entire body trembling. The demon on her shoulders tore at her in a frenzy, but the blank eyes were focused on the limp body in Zinta's hand, before her face turned towards Zalazane. Her lips curled up in a snarl.

Zalazane turned, and snarled at her, "Get back in line!" jabbing his staff in her direction. The magic spell that darted towards her bounced off. Zentabra's hands twitched, her fingers turning into claws. She hunched forward, and her eyes turned into golden slits. Striped fur started growing to cover her body, and the demon ran from it, as if the touch of the fur burned it. Daryana could see small golden sparks dancing around Zentabra, growing brighter as the transformation finished.

"Stop! I command you!" screamed Zalazane, almost dancing in a fury. "Guards! Stop her!" The guards were too slow, as Zentabra leaped onto Zalazane, jaws and claws tearing in a fury at the troll. Black magic danced around the two as Zalazane screamed spells and curses into being, but the golden light flared at each attack, defending Zentabra. Blood flew in the air as the tiger ripped Zalazane to pieces. The guards who were running towards them slowed in confusion as the demons on their shoulders faltered. When Zalazane died, the demons all faded. Most of the trolls fainted. Some started screaming, and tearing at themselves in horror. Some started crying, curling into fetal balls as the real world intruded onto their minds for the first time in years.

Mal'jin turned to Zinta, and grabbed at his arm. "Zinta! Let go!" Zinta turned to look at Mal'jin in helpless confusion, even as he opened his hand reflexively. "Mal'jin? What … Mal?"

The girl dropped heavily to the ground. Zentabra let out a howl of pain, and ran over to the girl. She transformed back into a troll, as she clutched the girl to her chest, "Baimee! Baby, speak to me!" She pushed some of the braids out of the girl's face, even as she stared helplessly at the bleeding wound on her head. The fracture was bad, brain matter visible beyond it. The girl's eyes fluttered for a few moments.

"Mama?" She whispered. For a moment, identical pairs of eyes looked into each other. The girl smiled in wonder. "Your eyes are right, mama.. The spirits helped you."

"Yes baby. The spirits helped me. You helped me, Baimee. Please baby, don't leave me, don't leave me now." Zentabra cradled the girl tightly, the tears running down her face now, her own voice shaking and pleading.

"It's ok mama. The spirits'll take me home." Baimee said, her soft voice fading away. She lifted a hand. "See? They're right there." The finger was pointing straight at Daryana, who turned to look over her shoulder in surprise. The hand dropped limply, and Zentabra's scream of grief was the last sound Daryana heard, as the dream faded in a confusing, dizzying swirl.


	8. Chapter 8

When Daryana opened her eyes, it was still dark, and she could hear chanting and drumming. In terror, she thrashed out of bed, stumbling towards the door, the heavy confusion of exhaustion and the remnants of the dream numbing her brain into foggy panic.

When she opened the door of the hut, she saw what looked like the entire village gathered around an altar in the center of the village, on which a bundle lay surrounded by candles. They were all kneeling in a circle, chanting in unison. Occasionally their hands would raise in supplication, then slap the ground hard in rhythmic punctuation.

_Well, they were trained to chant_, though Daryana briefly, before she was ashamed of the thought. The bundle on the altar was horribly familiar. _This must be their funeral ritual. What was it that the troll girl said? Ask the spirits for permission to return?_

She wasn't sure who had come back out of the dream, but she was certain that some parts of her had been left behind. Any other time she would have been so thrilled by the gift of being spoken to personally by Ysera she would have been incoherently giddy. But the horror of what the trolls had really been through, the truth that she had been shown in the dream, had stolen any pride or joy she might have felt. As she looked out at the villagers, she felt a strange kinship with all of them. She had seen the evil that terrorized them, had seen each face struggle against their demons. She saw the children Baimee had led, older now, interspersed in the crowd. Instead of a village full of enemies, she saw a village of people, fighting to recover from a trauma that would have been impossible to understand, if she hadn't been there.

They were all praying for the big troll. Mal'jin and Zen'tabra were up near the front, kneeling at opposite ends of the altar.

_Can you forgive, Daryana?_

She realized that she no longer felt the rage that had burned when Zinta attacked. He had attacked her. She had defended herself, and he had died. They were even.

She hobbled up to the back line of the trolls, and gracelessly knelt down. She joined in the chanting where she recognized the right syllables, slapping the ground when the others did. She'd almost gotten most of what she'd come to think of as the chorus down, when it stopped suddenly. The silence breathed, though the trolls and Daryana did not. Three spirits materialized over the altar. A bear, a serpent, and a troll child. Daryana recognized the child, as Baimee. Except now she was smiling and her body was unharmed.

The bear growled, "What do you ask?"

The serpent hissed. "For whom do you ask?"

Baimee looked at Daryana, as her smile pulled into the determinedly solemn lines of a child delivering an important speech, "Why do you ask?" Daryana shivered, as the feeling of power tickled her skin, making the hairs on her arms and legs stand straight up.

Zen'tabra stood up shakily, tears rolling down her face as she stared at Baimee hungrily. "We ask that ya forgive Zinta his crimes, and allow him to return ta us."

Daryana jerked as she realized she could understand the words. Apparently Ysera had given her another gift. Her ears translated the strange syllables easily.

Mal'jin stood up, "We ask for Zinta. Death closed his mouth, so I, his jin'sani, speak for him." His voice wobbled.

Daryana waited for the next person to answer Baimee's question, looking around. She realized that the ghost was still staring at her, and that there was some soft whispering going on around her, as the trolls turned and looked at her as well. Her brain wondered idly why she noticed exactly when Mal'jin's eyes turned to her in confusion. But she understood. She stood up, using the shoulder of the troll next to her to lever herself upright, almost without thinking. "He attacked me, I killed him. Justice has been satisfied. That is why we ask." Baimee's expression took on a slightly disappointed look, but she nodded anyways.

Daryana sank back down, assisted by the one-armed skinner whose shoulder she had used, wondering if she'd given the wrong answer.

The bear shook his massive head. "This troll's soul was broken many times. He has done little atonement with sincerity."

The snake twisted around so that his head rested on Zinta's chest. "Evil and violence was born here. But it was fed and allowed to grow by evil magic. Is it fair to blame the breaking upon the mirror?"

Baimee shrugged, "Ask him." She reached down to touch Zinta's forehead, as the bear rested a paw on Zinta's feet. A spirit pulled itself up from the body, and Daryana recognized the oversized form of Zinta hovering before the altar.

Baimee commanded, "Speak spirit. They ask forgiveness for you. The elf you wronged says Justice has been served. Do you deserve to return?"

Zinta's spirit thought and then said, "I probably do, but if I ever earned anything by atoning, I'm beggin' ya not ta." Mal'jin's head jerked up, his eyes wounded and filled with surprise and betrayal. "Zalazane's fire burned me too hot. It hurt to live. It is peaceful here. Leave me in peace. I can't hurt nobody here."

The bear turned to Zen'tabra. "What do you ask?"

"Forgiveness, great spirit. It wasn't his fault what he became." Zen'tabra whispered.

The serpent turned to Mal'jin, "For whom do you ask?"

Mal'jin bowed his head, shoulders slumping as the understanding and loss hit him. "Last time I asked for me. So I wouldn't feel guilty. Now I ask for Zinta. Let him go with ya."

Baimee turned towards Daryana again. _Can you forgive?_ "Why do you ask?" And Daryana immediately understood that her first answer was just as wrong as Zen'tabra's and Mal'jin's had been.

Daryana swallowed. "Because mercy is more important than justice."

The spirits looked at each other, communing silently, before they nodded. "We agree. Zinta will come with us, and never return to this realm." The four spirits disappeared, and the body burst into flames. Zen'tabra convulsively reached for Baimee's spirit, before dropping back onto her knees.

The firelight turned the trails of tears on Mal'jin and Zen'tabra's faces into golden tattoos, as they both cried in separate grief.

The one-armed troll began singing first, a slow song that seemed to talk of hope and longing. The other trolls joined in, singing as the pyre burned to the ground. Mal'jin and Zen'tabra eventually joined in the singing as well, when their tears ran out.

Daryana just sat, listening to the oddly poetric lyrics, taking comfort in the moonlight from the full moon puddling around her. The dream had proved she was here for a reason, that Elune had sent her here, and was giving her the guidance she needed. Instead of feeling abandoned, she now simply felt like an arrow on a very long tether. Elune wouldn't go to the trouble of having Ysera send her a dream and then let her get killed frivolously. Daryana had a job to do, just as soon as she figured out what it was.

_The trolls are druids._ She thought, chin cupped in one hand, _Yet they don't know anything about Elune or nature magic. The Council will NEVER accept them unless they can prove that they truly have Ysera's gifts. But if the trolls reveal themselves before they have the gifts, they'll be slaughtered. So they can't go to the Moonglade to learn. And they can't go to the tauren, not with the politics the way they are. The reports of the new Orc leader killing the Tauren, and the Trolls taking the side of the Tauren leader? The orcs wouldn't tolerate a renegade faction massing against them, and even the tauren might be unwilling to train the trolls, out of fear that they would be rendered superfluous. _

When the realization hit, she almost fell over sideways in shock. _Elune wants me to teach them. Ysera came to give me understanding so I WOULD teach them. They can't go to the Moonglade, so Elune sent the Moonglade to them. Me! I'm the worst at nature magic in the whole Circle! _Daryana could feel the old part of her rising up on the strength of panic. But then the new, stronger side of her said, _"But you've done more magic in the past two days than you have in two years. You've memorized every single book on the subject in the Moonglade library, out of desperation. Maybe Elune hid your magic from you, so you would study harder. And then when you were ready, she sent the Tauren with his report on horned tigers. If Elune wants you here, she's not going to let you fail. What happened to all that faith you were so proud of, moon-touched one?_

Daryana sat up straighter as she looked around at the trolls who were now dancing, the songs taking on a faster rhythm. _I'm their only hope. Their last chance to survive._ The trolls wouldn't be able to hide forever. They'd have to be ready when the world came.


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't normally do author notes. But I did want to apologize for leaving the story hanging. After writing the chapter where Baimee died, I myself got pregnant and had a baby, and completely lost my brain/free time/ability to sleep. Hopefully I didn't lose everyone over a year of absentia. ;b**

Daryana got up and hobbled back to the hut, seeing and hearing nothing. When she'd been trapped in the dream, she'd wanted nothing more than to help the trolls, to stop the suffering. She'd have happily attacked Zalazane with her teeth if it would have helped. Now she knew how she could help and it was the last thing she wanted.

_I can't go home. _The disappointment and homesickness was crushing. She'd hoped that she'd be able to convince the trolls she was harmless and to let her go. Perhaps even point her the way to Ratchet, give her some clothes. But she couldn't go back now, not until the trolls were ready. She was trapped here until she'd managed to teach a bunch of traumatized trolls advanced spellwork! Elune only knew how long it was going to take! A desire to see the Moonglade again ballooned inside her, throbbing painfully against her ribs until she thought she'd explode with it.

_I can't go home. I can't go home._ The words wore a groove inside her head._ It's not FAIR! I'm the one who got attacked, TWICE. Why am I the one being punished! _No sooner had that thought hit, then a wave of shame swamped it down and stomped on it.

_Because I asked for it. _She told herself sternly._ How many times did I whine at Elune to send me on an adventure, or to let me prove myself?_ She felt an irrational sense of annoyance at her teachers for not telling her how difficult the world really was. She'd known in a sort of theoretical sense, that bad things happened, but before this adventure, bad things had never happened to HER. _I should have been more specific about the scale of the adventure._ She thought miserably.

She let herself into Mal'jin's hut, and looked around at what might end up being her home for the next few months. Her nose wrinkled. It was definitely the home of a male creature. The towel he'd used earlier was crumpled on the table, there was a distinct aroma coming from the sheets, _Not unpleasant,but sort of .. musky_, and stuff was haphazardly placed around the hut, rather than any sort of aesthetic plan. Maybe she could talk the trolls into building her a hut of her own. 

_ In the meantime, perhaps you should sort out the sleeping situation, _her old self muttered in the back of her head. She stared at the bed. It was still rumpled from her nap.

Mal'jin sat on the beach next to Zentabra. A mostly-empty jug of rum sat between them, along with the two bowls formerly containing the snake stew that Zanza had brought them. Zentabra hadn't touched her stew, so Mal'jin ate hers.

"Mah baby, mah Baimee. It hurt ta see her, like a knife cuttin' me open, but I didn't mind. She looked happy, didn' she." Zentabra said softly. The rum had washed most of the lump out of her throat so she could speak.

"She did. Zinta… he looked peaceful. He ain't ever been at peace." Mal'jin said back, picking up the jug of rum.

"Livin' ain't peaceful, Mal. I'd kill ma self in a heartbeat to be with mah baby again, if it wouldn't make the spirits mad, and if it weren't for everyone in the village." Zentabra's voice broke, "Oh Baimee, my beautiful Baimee… Fate be cruel ta set us free by tearin' us apart."

"Don' talk like that Zentabra. She be honored by da spirits. Why else would she be chosen ta be one o' da three? Ya definitely see her when this time is done." Mal'jin handed her the jug, wiping his tusks on the back of his hand.

"I only hope I'll be worthy by that time. I hope all this, … that it won't be for nothin' Mal." Zentabra wrapped her arms around her legs, as she pulled her knees into her chest. "When I see my baby again, I wanna tell her that her sacrifice, it was worth it. That we done took our place back among the tribes, that we atoned for all the sins o' Zalazane, that she saved us all!" Zentabra said fiercely, before draining the last of the jug.

"Ya gonna be able ta, Zentabra. It's slow, but we gettin' better." Mal'jin said, "It's a journey, right?"

Zentabra rocked back and forth, "I think… I think that was why I was so hard on Zinta. I shoulda tried ta be more understandin', maybe not push him so hard. But every time he lost it, I just .. I thought he might bring failure back on all our heads by pissing off the spirits, and I was so afraid that I'd never see mah baby again. I asked da spirits ta forgive him, but I didn't forgive him."

Mal'jin watched the moon rise. "Zinta… He burned all the time. Nothin' ya could do about it. Now he's at peace, and the spirits gonna let him stay where he can rest. Ya done as right by him as ya could." His large shoulders sagged. "Maybe I coulda done more. Maybe not. He's the only family I had left."

Zentabra put a hand on his knee and patted. "Ya gotta let it go, Mal. I … I couldn't save mah baby. Ya couldn't save Zinta neither. But we see 'em both again. Just, think on that. It don't take the hurtin' away, but it make it bearable."

Mal'jin sighed, and flicked a shell out of the sand and into the approaching tide. Silence stretched between them like the moon's reflection upon the sea.

Zentabra broke it first. "Mal, did ya notice … ya elfy spoke in the ceremony."

Mal'jin nodded. "Yeah, her Common is getting better."

Zentabra lifted her eyebrows, "Mal… she spoke Zandali, not Common. We could all understand her."

Mal'jin jerked up like he'd been poked somewhere sensitive. "What ya saying, Zentabra?"

"And she joined us in the ceremony. And … I dunno, Mal'jin, but she seemed ta be spirit-touched. My baby, she spoke ta the elfy, and the elfy didn' seem mad at us like she was before. Seemed more like she was on our side. She didn' have ta speak for Zinta. Had no reason."

Mal'jin stared out over the ocean. "Do ya… do ya think she always been able ta speak Zandali?"

Zentabra shook her head. "Nah. I think maybe the spirits be helpin' us out. Maybe they just give 'er the knowing of our tongue, so she can teach us proper. Either way, the elfy be real important Mal."

Mal'jin scooped up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. "An' I hurt her. But… at least now I can apologize."

"Ya didn' know Mal'jin. But maybe ya should make the apology later, rather than sooner, I'm thinkin'."

Mal'jin frowned. "But Zentabra, she can understand me now. She gotta know one of us hurt her. I gotta tell her da truth. Especially now."

Zentabra dropped her chin to the tops of her knees in reluctant surrender. "Do what ya feel is right in ya heart, Mal. My advice ain't been so good lately I guess."

Mal'jin got up slowly, and stretched, every muscle in his torso aching from the long day. "I just … I feel it ain't right ta lie any more. I gonna tell da elfy, and then if she don't wanna set eyes on me again, I'll go live on the other island or somethin', out of the way. I can't see the spirits or Dah-ree-anna wantin' much more of me anyways."

"We'll figure somethin' out, Mal'jin. I think the spirits got plans for ya." _And da elfy, but ya can figure that out on ya own._ The spirits had told Zentabra in no uncertain terms that Mal'jin was to take care of the elf. She hoped she wouldn't have to tell him that.

Mal'jin dusted the sand off his pants. "I guess I should go … do it. At least maybe I'll sleep tonight."

Zentabra watched him lope back to the village, before turning her attention back out to the sea. "Oh Baimee," she whispered. "It was so good to see ya. I miss ya so much baby. So much."


	10. Chapter 10

Mal'jin peeked around the door before opening it all the way, just in case the elf was naked again. He would have felt stupid knocking on his own door. He shut it quickly, in reflex, and then stared at the closed door in confusion. He looked around the village to make sure that he was in fact in front of his own door.

He opened it again. All of the furniture in his hut had been rearranged. His table had been shoved under the window, his chest had been moved next to the fireplace and his baskets stacked on top of it. His windows were open, and it looked like his second best sheets had been chopped into rough curtains. The only thing that hadn't moved was the bed, but almost all of the blankets and most of the pillows had disappeared from on top of it. He stepped inside and promptly tripped over the broom that had been left by the front door, and landed in a neat pile of what looked like floor sweepings.

He swore and sat up, rubbing his tusks. At this rate they really were going to fall out.

"Dah-ree-ana?" He asked, between clenched teeth. He couldn't see the elf anywhere.

The pile of blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace that he'd initially taken for his laundry pile stirred. The elf sat up and yawned, nothing more than a black shadow wrapped in the soft gorilla-pelt blanket.

"Hello Mahl-jin." She said tiredly. "Can it wait until tomorrow?" Her accent was strange, but the words were definitely Zandali.

"You ARE speaking Zandali! Zen'tabra was right!" He said, excitedly. A little pit of dread bubbled deep in his stomach. He had no excuse now.

"Ysera gave me your language in a dream. She showed me what happened to you all. What Zalazane did. Elune wants me to … to help the trolls." Daryana yawned, before saying pointedly, "But we can talk about this tomorrow." She'd really been pretty comfortable in her little nest, and even though she'd intended to talk to Mal'jin when he came back in, she'd rapidly decided that sleep was more important.

"Who's Ysera? And Elune?" Mal'jin asked, confused. Were there more elves on the island?

"Sweet merciful moonbeams, you don't even know who Ysera is?" Daryana flopped back on her pillows. "_Balashin'do_ me! This is going to take FOREVER."

Mal'jin felt that familiar pain starting in his temple that seemed to show up every time he talked to the elf. "No. What's going to take forever?"

"Look, druid classes will start tomorrow morn… afternoon, but right now, I'd really like to sleep. It's been a really shitty week."

Mal'jin tried, "Well, that's good, but I kinda wanted ta tell ya something."

Daryana sat upright and snapped, "Unless you're going to tell me that the hut is on fire AND surrounded by elf-eating monsters, It. Can. Wait. I am comfy, I am tired, and I swear by Elune's left hemisphere that I will listen to whatever you have to say TOMORROW." She flopped back down, and then sat up again long enough to say, "After breakfast!"

"I thought you was a **night** elf." Mal'jin said without thinking.

"Shut up, troll, I'm sleeping. Also, I say breakfast, but really, I mean lunch." She'd decided that even if she was in a strange place, with strange people, and food, she could still enjoy one of her favorite pleasures and sleep in.

Mal'jin made an irritable noise with his lips. His shoulders and back were aching from the pit he'd inadvertently dug, and the emotional exhaustion of the day was bone deep. Bad news could always wait for the next day. Maybe the elf would be in a better mood after sleeping, and maybe she'd be willing to forgive him easier if he let the cranky thing sleep.

With that happy thought, he got up and climbed into bed. His last conscious thought was how much more comfy the elf's blanket nest looked.

Mal'jin woke up at dawn. None of the trolls ever slept much more than five hours a night. Zalazane had inflicted harsh punishments upon "lazy" trolls, and even after all these months, any troll who overslept often woke up screaming in a panic. He got out of bed, wincing. His back and shoulders were on fire, and he had a splitting headache. He reached down for the water bucket. It wasn't where he left it.

He pried open an eyelid and looked around the cabin. His water bucket was tucked back in the corner behind the elf-pile. He couldn't reach it without treading on the elf. He looked at the broom on the floor and grinned.

He caught the bucket's rope handle on the third try, and the bucket was directly over the elf, when she turned over, an arm flailing up and whacking the bucket. The left-over water splashed all over the elf.

Daryana launched upright from sheer adrenaline, her body not having waited to consult the brain, screeching so loudly and shrilly that he dropped the broom to clap his hands over his ears.

"WHAT IN THE PITS OF RAGNAROS IS WRONG WITH YOU?" She screamed at the top of her lungs, as she shoved wet locks of hair off her forehead, to glare at him. "Do trolls think waking up in a state of shock is HEALTHY!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" He protested. "I was trying to get the bucket you moved!"

"The BUCKET? You threw water on me to get a DAMNED BUCKET?" He noted unhappily that she had an impressive range of volume, and the pitch of her outrage just kept getting more painful.

"No! The bucket had water in it, and I was tryin' ta get the bucket so …"

"You couldn't WAIT until I woke up to GET THE STUPID BUCKET?"

"No I couldn't! I need tha bucket so I can take a piss!" He yelled, regretting the words the second they came out of his mouth. "Wait, I mean..."

Silence reigned for a few seconds, as she stared at him, and then down at her wet clothes.

"Look, it's not what ya…"

This time he did cover his ears as she screamed, rocketing around the cabin and ripping the clothes off as if they were infested with spiders.

"I CAN NOT BELIEVE YOU DUMPED YOUR TOILET ON ME!"

"I didn't!" He yelled, even as he shut his eyes tightly at the naked elf screaming in hysterical circles around the cabin.

The door burst open, and Zen'tabra, Zanza, and a male troll Daryana didn't recognize ran in, "Mal'jin! Elf!" Zen'tabra said, pausing as she took in the scene, relieved that there wasn't any visible blood. "What the hell is wrong wit' ya!"

"She thinks I dumped a bucket of pee on her, but I just dumped the water bucket, OF WATER, on her ACCIDENTALLY." Said Mal'jin quickly, though in a yell, because otherwise it would have been impossible to hear over the elf's screaming.

Daryana had grabbed the towel from the chair she'd hung it on, and was scrubbing frantically at her head and shoulders. "Oh my goddess, this has to be the nastiest thing that ever happened to me! OH please don't tell me it got in my mouth. I think I'm going to puke!"

"Elf! Calm DOWN!" yelled Zen'tabra. "It ain't what ya think!"

Daryana dimly realized that there were now more trolls in the cabin, and she paused in her scrubbing to stare at them. The realization that they were staring right back eventually dawned.

"It is EXACTLY what I think! He said he needed the bucket so he could pee!" Daryana said hotly, wrapping the towel around her tightly, as a flush darkened her skin.

"Yeah. He needs the water bucket so he can slosh out the outhouse after he's done! Otherwise it'd be a nasty stink. He don't pee in the water bucket!" said Zanza, snickering. She winked at Mal'jin, "Ya don't, right"?"

"Of course not!" responded Mal'jin grumpily, "And I wouldn't have dumped it if ya hadn't of moved all my stuff around! I'd managed ta grab it with the broom, but then ya turned over and knocked it off."

"Well how was I supposed to know?" yelled Daryana. "And don't yell at me!"

"I AIN'T …" Mal'jin took a deep breath, rubbing the vein throbbing in his temple. "I ain't yelling. You the one yelling and throwing ya clothes all over the place."

Silence reigned in the cabin for a moment, before Daryana muttered, "You dumped a bucket of water on me." She tightened the towel around her, and cleared her throat. Her shoulders went back and her spine straightened, as she said in as calm a tone as she could manage, "Cultural misunderstandings during primary encounters of this sort are fairly common. No harm was done, and hopefully we can all put this incident behind us and move forward to forge the bonds of camaraderie and professional understanding. After I get dressed again… and have a bath, hopefully your leader and I may sit and create a productive dialogue regarding my purpose in being here. "

She was terribly proud of the dignity and eloquence of her little speech until Zanza leaned over to Zen'tabra and said, "What'd she say?"

Zen'tabra said, "She says she didn't know trolls don't use pee buckets, and she'd like us all ta forget it happened, and after she puts her clothes back on, she wants ta talk to me. I think."

Daryana deflated. "Yes, that's what I meant."

Mal'jin, his ears still ringing, very ostentatiously and slowly reached over to get his bucket. "I'll be back in a few minutes, if it's all the same ta everyone." He picked up his bucket, and scuttled out of the hut.

Zanza said in a loud whisper, "Zen'tabra, do the elves pee in buckets inside their houses? That's NASTY."

Daryana said sharply, "No we do not! We have special bathrooms with plumbing."

"Inside the house?" asked Zanza.

"Well of course." said Daryana, "But it doesn't stink."

The three trolls looked extremely unconvinced. Zen'tabra cleared her throat, "Well, we'll let you get back ta … whatever it was ya were doing. I'll be available to talk whenever ya not naked." Zen'tabra paused. "Um, I don't know what the elf customs are, but I think I should tell ya, that it'd be better if ya could manage ta keep ya clothes on? If it ain't a festival night, trolls don't run around naked. Not that we're tryin' ta judge, but it'd be less confusin' for everyone."

Daryana managed to say, "Sure." though her tone was a bit strangled. She had a momentary vision of Zen'tabra chatting with the Archdruid. _~Oh sure, we got along great just as soon as we got her ta keep her clothes on!~ _

Zen'tabra smiled widely, trying to be reassuring, and made motions to push Zanza and the other male troll out of the hut. "Good talk. We'll go now."

Daryana waited until they shut the door, before crawling over to a window and peeking out the curtain she'd made last night. The entire village appeared to be gathered in front of Mal'jin's cabin, wearing various expressions ranging from concerned to wide grins. Zen'tabra held her hands up, and said in a soft voice that still managed to carry across the crowd. "Everythin' is fine. The elf didn't hurt Mal'jin. Mal'jin didn' hurt the elf. Everyone go back ta actin' normal. Go on, shoo!"

"Is the elf gonna teach us Zen'tabra?" asked a female troll near the back.

"She might, Doola, but don't ya be pushing it. Lazlo says the elves are big on formal, snotty greetings and rituals. We don' wanna offend her, so we just gotta be patient."

The trolls slowly dispersed. One of the younger males, older than a child, but clearly not as big as the adults, brought a bucket of fruit up to Mal'jin's door, and left it.

Daryana briefly considered crawling back into her blankets to sleep but reluctantly decided against it. The trolls were all up and working. How would they respect her if she didn't display similar stamina? She limped around the cabin, finding her clothes.

She looked down at her ankle. _Let's see if Elune is giving my magic back. Prove the theory._ She closed her eyes to concentrate. _Find the healing energies in the earth, feel your roots sinking deep into the ground to drink of the life-energy. _ She focused on the mental picture of her toes elongating into roots and sinking deeply into the ground. It came so sharply and instantly that she promptly lost it out of surprise.

When Mal'jin re-entered the hut, carrying a full bucket of water and the bowl of fruit tucked on an elbow, he found the elf waltzing around with his broom in her linen tunic and no pants, singing something he couldn't understand. He looked down at her ankle, noticing the swelling and bandages were gone. He instantly decided that he was never going to expect the elf to be doing the same thing whenever he came in the door, so he could quit being confused.

"Ya gone crazy elf, or do ya always have these kinda mood swings?" He asked warily.

"My healing spell worked!" She chortled happily. She was so tickled with her success that she felt happier than she had in days. "Look, my ankle's all better! And so are the … the other things." She gave him a brilliant smile, her eyes glowing brightly.

Mal'jin was so still that she turned to look at him.

"Oh come on, are you still mad that I rearranged your hut?" She said irritably. Trolls were so damn TOUCHY.

He stared at her as if he didn't understand her, before saying in a trembling voice, "Druids… druids can do healing spells?"

"Well, of course!" She said grandly, reveling in her success, "Druids and priests both can, though druids use nature magic and priests are all about higher powers, though if you believe in the Aspect theory of …"

He grabbed her hand, and dragged her out of the hut, "Come on! Quickly!"

It would not be incorrect to say that her feet only managed to touch the ground every third or so step of his, as she flailed along behind him. He was running as fast as he could, dragging the elf through the village, ignoring the fact that she was trying to catch her breath enough to demand an explanation.

He dove into a large hut, and dragged her across the room to a pallet in the back. It took her a moment to adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the gloom inside the hut, but she had an impression of a lot of sleeping mats and shelves, and small trolls retreating from Mal'jin's tumultuous entrance.

He stopped, and Daryana inhaled deeply before gasping out, "Seriously, Mal'jin, can you not just take a moment and use your words?" She turned to look around and then down to the small figure lying on the mat. A small troll girl, with the infant chubbiness of limbs indicating she had yet to seriously get into walking or playing, lay far too still. One of her legs was dark purple, and swollen three times the size of the other. Two large puncture wounds were halfway up the calf, red and puckered. An adult troll woman was sponging off the girl with wet cloths, the silent despair needing no translation.

"Oh." Daryana said.

"Big snake crawled in here a couple nights ago. Bit Tiba before we killed it. We tried suckin' the poison, but it travelled too fast. We done tried potions and bleedin' the wound, but the poison just keeps killin' her."

The troll woman didn't look up at Daryana, too far gone in her grief and fear to care about the stranger. But she jerked, when Mal'jin asked, "Is there.. is there anything ya can do?"

"Mal'jin …. what ya askin' her for? Is she. … can she help mah Tiba?" She said.

Daryana stared down at the small troll, uncertainty and nervousness warring in her. She couldn't look at the mother. Theoretically, she knew the cure poison spell. Theoretically.

Mal'jin knelt down next to Daryana, even though that just put his head at her shoulder level. "Please? Can ya help her?"

Daryana swallowed. "I… I can try. I don't know if it'll work." She knelt down carefully next to the child, and put her hand on the baby's skin. She could feel the heat radiating from the small body. "It may not work. I hope it'll work. Oh Elune, please let it work…"

She concentrated on the idea of poison becoming harmless, of the blood turning from yellow to red, and murmured the spell. She felt the tingle of power, and exhaled in relief. The spell had worked. She smiled hopefully at Mal'jin over her shoulder.

"I think it worked. Any minute now maybe?" They waited, but nothing changed. Daryana's brow wrinkled. "I don't understand." She muttered, "The spell worked like it was supposed to, but nothing happened. Why didn't it work? Why wouldn't Elune allow it to work?"

The mother turned her head away, the faint hope dying away in a look that stabbed Daryana to the heart. Mal'jin's head sunk to his chest. "It's ok Dar-ee-ana. We … we hoped."

Daryana started biting her thumbnail, as she mentally started flipping through the books in her head. "Poison theory. Druids must be in tune with the nature around them in order to cure poison from either plant or animal element." She muttered, "Not helpful. Moonglade poisons can be cured by tauren or elf… WAIT!"

Mal'jin nearly fell over as the elf shrieked in his ear.

"What?" He said, almost angrily. A deathbed was not a place to yell.

The elf turned to him with an urgent look, "I've got to teach the spell to one of you! Only a troll can cure this poison!"

Mal'jin stared at her confused, "Troll druids can't do magic!"

Daryana made an impatient motion with her hand, "Don't be stupid, of course you can! But I'm not native to this land, so I can't cure the poison from this land. Druids can only cure poison either from creatures native to their land, or IN creatures native to their land. It says so very clearly in Stormrage's _Discourse on Diseases, Toxins, and Pox. _If an elf had been bitten here, I could cure them, or if you had been bitten where I live, I could cure you there. So who among you is the fastest learner!"

She put her hands on her hips, "Come on, come on! Mal'jin, hurry up!"

The mother grabbed Daryana's hand, drawing Daryana's attention to her "Teach me!" she said, desperately.

"Are you a druid?" asked Daryana.

For answer, the mother turned into a tiger, and then back again. "Teach me!" she said again, fiercely.

Daryana slanted a glance at Mal'jin, questioning. Mal'jin nodded, "You start teachin' her, I'll get Zen'tabra! She's the strongest of us."

Daryana nodded, and took a deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms on the linen tunic. "What's your name?" She asked.

"My name is Mani." said the mother.

"Ok. Let's go over the theory first, and then we'll try the spell." Daryana's voice shook a little, nervously. She'd never been trusted to teach anyone anything, much less in a life and death situation. Mani's blind trust in her knowledge was terrifying.

Mal'jin ran from the children's hut, shifting into his tiger form for speed. He found Zen'tabra going over the supplies in one of the warehouses. He shifted back.

"Zen'tabra! Ya gotta come quick! The elf, she's tryin' ta teach Mani the cure poison spell, maybe save little Tiba. If Mani can't learn it, maybe ya can! Come on!"

Zen'tabra didn't hesitate, setting the basket in her hands back down, and shifting. The village stared as she and Mal'jin ran back to the children's hut.

As they approached, they could hear Mani's voice wailing. They slowed down, and shifted back into troll form. Zen'tabra put a hand on Mal'jin's arm. "I'm sorry Mal."

Daryana came stumbling out of the hut, her hand covering her eyes.

Mal'jin swallowed, "Dar-ee-ana, it's ok, we understand ya tried. It just wasn't enough time." He said.

Daryana blinked at him. "What are you talking about? Lady, but it's bright out here."

Zen'tabra nodded, "Don't be blaming ya'self. We didn' intend ta ask ya ta teach us so soon. Figgered on lettin' ya ritualize for ya elfy ways."

Daryana cocked her head to one side. "Ah. I understand." She had a strange look on her face. "You didn't have much faith in my success." She turned and yelled into the hut, "Hey, Mani! C'mere, would ya?"

Zen'tabra and Mal'jin both inhaled sharply, scandalized at the elf's casual treatment of Mani's grief.

Mani came out a few moments later, cradling a small body to her chest.

Zen'tabra said roughly, "Oh Mani… I'm so sorry." The sight tore at the hole in her heart. It didn't seem to matter how often or what reminded her of Baimee; the pain never dulled or lessened.

Mani shook her head, wordless and incoherent tears running down her cheeks. Then Tiba picked her head up from Mani's shoulder, and yawned, eyes sleepy, but aware.

"She's not all better yet," said Daryana, breezily, "But Mani's got a talent for spells. Or she was seriously motivated. Either way, I think she cured the poison. Now it's just letting the kid recover. I think. We're going to keep an eye on her. And we'll work on healing spells next." Daryana's smugness radiated from every line of her body. "Now, you owe me an apology."

Mal'jin gently stroked Tiba's head, where bright blue hair was short enough to curl. "I owe ya more than that. Tiba's mah niece. Zinta didn' know, but Mani told me. I got somethin' left of me brother." He'd felt a guilty stab at her words of owing her an apology. If only she knew.

Daryana stretched, "Now, if there aren't any more life-threatening emergencies, I'd really like to get back to having breakfast and a bath, if it's all the same to you." _And maybe I can sneak a nap in the afternoon. Claim I need to meditate or something._ She couldn't stop staring at the little baby troll. All her life, she'd wanted to be a hero, to do great deeds to earn the gratitude of the faceless masses. But as she watched Tiba twine pudgy fingers in Mani's hair, she couldn't help but feel like she'd earned a medal, even if saving the life of a troll wouldn't make any list of great deeds of Azeroth.

"Whatever ya want." said Zen'tabra, quietly but firmly. Even her own grief felt a teeny bit lessened in the happiness radiating from Mal'jin and Mani. A tiny spark of hope kindled in her chest. _If Mani can learn, we all can learn. _


End file.
